special snapshot
tattoo artist!abby anderson x fem!reader
- summary: you decide to tease abby before she meets an important client at her shop by sneaking in a special photograph of yourself. once she finds it during her shift at work, she decides to have a private photo session with you in the bedroom.
- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, vegas living, established relationship, a bad australian impression (sorry aussies ily), lots of picture taking, strap usage (r!receiving), possessive dom!abby, submissive headspace (r), abby’s custom strap (if ykyk), abby refers to her strap as her cock, use of nicknames towards reader (angel, princess, sweet girl etc), edging, overuse of the words ‘inked’ and ‘tatted’ bc i can’t think of anything else
- author’s note: the wait is finally over, you asked and i delivered. here is my first tattoo artist!abby one shot! this is the first idea that came to my mind at the time, but i might make more of these if y’all like this one.
if you’re new to my page and haven’t seen my original post about tattoo artist!abby, you can find that here. a lot of references i’ve made in this fic come directly from my hc post.
also, i have a masterlist now so y’all can easily find my fics and see what i’m currently working on :)
- middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount
“Come on, come on…hurry up already…”
You were pacing around the bathroom floor, impatiently waiting as the image below you still appeared white. Your girlfriend was running late for work right now because she’d spent the past 10 minutes endlessly searching throughout her apartment for something that was currently in your possession.
“Babe! I still can’t find it! Are you sure you haven’t seen my camera anywhere?”
Abby’s looked around every single area in her apartment so many times that she’s lost count. Every single area except the four walls that surround you right now. Her Polaroid camera was there, sitting on the bathroom counter in front of you, right next to a photograph that was still waiting to develop.
You grabbed the photograph and began to shake it again before setting it back down. After a couple more attempts, it finally began to develop. You smiled as you picked up the photograph, shaking it one last time for good measure before seeing the fully developed image you took of yourself. The plan you had come up with today was sinister, and you were all in for it.
“Babe! Have you checked for it in my room again?”
Abby’s footsteps were approaching the bedroom, causing you to quickly grab your pants from the floor and put them back on. You then grabbed the photograph and carefully placed it in your back pocket before taking the camera and leaving the en suite bathroom. By the time Abby walked in and saw you, you still had her camera in your hands.
“There it is!” She exclaimed before sighing in relief. “Where was it?”
“You left it by the window over there.” You reply, pointing over to her bedroom window with your free hand.
“Wow, you have a good eye, babe. I never would have guessed it’d be there.” She took the camera from your hands and wrapped her arms around you. This brief moment allowed you to take the developed piece of film out of your back pocket and quickly slide it into the back pocket of her dark wash jeans. Luckily, your girlfriend was too distracted about today to even notice.
“I’ve got this first-time client coming from Australia today to get a tattoo…” She began as she broke her hug from you. “He said he loves my work and wants—“ She cuts herself off as she checks the back of the camera. “Damn it, I’m out of film…” She let out a sigh once she saw the little 0 appearing in white next to the film cartridge compartment. There were no more shots left on her camera.
Well, there was one left…but you already used it.
Abby didn’t think anything of it though. She figured that she used up the last 10 shots between her past clients and her previous photo sessions with you in the bedroom. “I’ll have to pick up some film on my way to the shop, hopefully I’ll get there before my client comes in…” You watched as Abby opened up the back of the camera and took out the empty film cartridge before tossing it out and closing the compartment. She looked up and smiled at you, quickly rushing in to kiss you. “Thanks again for finding it, babe. I’ll let you know when I’m back from work, yeah?”
You nodded in response, kissing her back. “Of course babe, good luck with the client today!” Abby shot another smile back at you before leaving her room. Once you heard her keys jingle and the front door closing, you let out a breath of relief. If it weren’t for Abby being so distracted by this big client flying over halfway around the world just to get a tattoo done by her, she most definitely would have caught you a lot sooner. But luckily, she took the bait.
Now all you had to do was wait for her to find it.
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅
Abby hurriedly got out of her car upon arriving at her shop. Once she entered inside, she saw her special client there talking to Nora at reception. She was super relieved to have made it in time.
“There she is!” Nora exclaimed once she saw her. “Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.”
Abby raised an eyebrow at her as she approached the reception area. “All good things, I hope?” she said jokingly before looking over to her client. “I’m Abby, you must be Nathan?” she asked, extending a hand for him to shake it. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”
Nathan shook his head in response as he shook her hand. “It’s no worries mate, I just got in a few minutes ago.”
“Sounds good, I can get you started over here.” She brings Nathan over to her station to get himself situated. “I was working on your piece last night and came up with a few options for you to choose from.” Abby sets her things down at her desk while turning over to him and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Her back pocket. The same pocket that you slipped the photograph in less than an hour ago.
But what Abby didn’t notice was that the photograph had slipped out of her back pocket and onto the ground right behind her.
Abby didn’t notice it, but Nora sure did.
Nora was just passing by to give Abby some transfer paper when she saw the photograph lying face down on the floor. Clutching the transfer paper in her hands, she quickly copped a squat to pick it up. “Abby, you dropped one of your—oh” Nora cut her own words off once she accidentally caught a glimpse of the photo, causing Abby to turn around and face her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, um…I’m guessing this isn’t meant to go on your wall…” She replied as she handed her the photo face down, her voice quiet enough so that her client wouldn’t hear.
The blonde furrowed her brows in confusion when Nora gave her the photo. “Not on my wall? What are you—“ She flipped over the photo to take a look before quickly flipping it face down and hiding it in her palm. Now she understood what Nora meant by that.
It looks like Abby’s camera did have one shot left after all.
Abby was startled when she felt Nathan tap her shoulder, causing her to turn back around. “Everything alright?” he asked, his tone slightly curious.
“Y-Yeah, yeah everything’s fine! Just excuse me for one moment.” She briefly excused herself before speedwalking to the back of the shop and locking herself in the first room she could find. The photograph remained hidden in her palm.
Taking a deep breath, Abby lifted the photograph to take a better look. It was of you, front and center on the camera, wearing that same black skin-tight shirt she saw you in this morning. Despite the quality, Abby could tell you didn’t have a bra on because she could easily see your nipples poking through. Along with that, you were also wearing something else— a matching thong with rhinestones on the waistband. It must’ve been new because Abby had never seen you in that before.
It was taking Abby everything right now to not drop what she was doing and leave to go home and fuck you senseless. Seeing this photograph alone was already causing her boxers to dampen. But she needed to work on this client. She’s been planning on doing this piece on him for months, she can’t back out of this now.
Abby took a deep breath, giving the photograph one last look before putting it back into her pocket and turning around to exit the room. She walks back to her station and sees Nathan patiently waiting for her in the chair.
“Alright, let’s get started shall we?”
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ──⋅
You don’t hear back from Abby all day.
You figured that it could’ve been because of her special client, along with whoever else shows up to get a tattoo from her. But what really happened was that Abby decided to take the rest of the day off after finishing with her client and was waiting for you to come into her apartment.
You unlocked the door to Abby’s place with the spare key she gave you and entered inside before closing it shut behind you. To your surprise, you see Abby sitting there on the couch. She was manspreading, with one of her tatted arms perched over her knee so she could rest her chin.
“Hey babe, you’re home early…” You set your things down at the counter before walking over to her. “How did it go with the client?”
Abby lifted her head from her hands, looking up in your direction. “The client went great, actually…he loved the piece I tattooed for him.”
“That’s good, um…why are you home so early?”
You felt the need to ask her right off the bat. There was a feeling that you were getting. A sense of knowing that she found the photograph.
“No reason…just felt like taking the rest of the day off.”
You simply nod in response before slowly heading over to her bedroom. And as if you could feel her presence approaching, Abby soon followed behind you, closing the door once the two of you were inside. There was a brief moment of silence before Abby decided to speak up. “Did you think I wouldn’t find it?”
You turned around to face her. She stood there, her tatted sleeves crossed in front of her chest, with a smirk plastered on her freckled face.
She found the photograph. You know she did.
But you still decide to play dumb.
You furrow your brows in confusion. “Find what? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play silly with me now, princess….” You watched as Abby reached into her back pocket, that same back pocket you slipped the photograph in, and saw her pull it out. The delicate photograph of your body stood in between her inked fingers, fully on display in front of you.
“So much not having any shots left on my camera, right?” She said as she began to slowly step forward in your direction.
“Do you not like it…?” You ask her quietly, quickly looking down once she’s right in front of you. You start to feel like doing this to her wasn’t a good idea after all.
Abby’s expression softens for a brief moment. “Oh, baby…” she lifts your chin up with her free hand before leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Of course I love it. You look so fucking sexy in this.” She looks back down at the photograph before directing her attention back at you.
“But do you remember the rule I told you about these?” She asks sternly, holding the piece of film in front of you.
You avert your gaze away from her and back to the ground. “Your eyes only…” you mutter out to her.
Abby lifts your chin back up once again to face her. “That’s right, angel. My eyes only.”
She points the photograph towards her and taps the corner gently on her chest, just a few inches above her chest piece in reference to herself.
“Mine. No one else’s.”
She slowly lets go of your chin and looks back down at the small piece of film. “You’re lucky it was only Nora who found it…if it were any of the guys, I would’ve gone insane.” She takes a closer look at the photograph, remembering the new thong you had on in the photo before looking back at you. “Are you wearing it?”
You nod.
Abby hooks an inked finger on the belt loop of your pants and gently tugs on it. “Off, princess. I want to see you just like how I saw you in this picture.”
You follow her command, bringing your hands down to the waistband of your pants and slowly unzipping them before pushing them down your thighs. Once they’re at your feet, you step out of them and take a step towards her. She then slips one of her hands under your shirt until they stop at the hem of your bra, gently tugging it down as well. “This too.”
Reaching underneath your shirt, you quickly unhook your bra, pulling the straps off of your shoulders before taking it out completely and dropping it on the ground. Abby took a step back to take in the sight of you. “My sweet girl…You look so good for me right now..” She muttered quietly. You feel her run her tatted hand through your body, starting at your hip and making its way up to one of your tits.
She looks back at the photograph for a brief moment, noticing you had one of your hands covering that same one. An idea flashed through her mind, you could tell because that same smirk was starting to appear on her face again. Her hand lets go from your breast and drops back to her side. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Abby leaves her room for a moment before quickly returning, now with her camera in her hands. “How about we recreate that pretty picture of you, hm? Would you like that?” You nod to her in response, biting your lip to hide your smile.
“Words, princess.”
You nod again, a little quicker this time. “Yes, I’d love to do that.”
Abby walks over to you and sets the photograph at the corner of her bed before turning her camera on. Once it was ready, she pointed the camera right in front of you with one hand and used her free hand to gently grab your breast, placing her thumb on top of your hardening nipple. She looked into the viewfinder, adjusting the angle and position before a quick flash went through your eyes.
The photo slowly whirs out of the camera. But Abby doesn’t even bother to check it out yet. Instead, she sets the camera to the side right next to the original photograph of you and begins to undo her jeans. “Kneel for me, princess.”
By instinct, you drop down to your knees in front of her. You already know what’s about to happen next.
As soon as the zipper of her jeans goes down you can already see it. The bulge underneath her black boxers, with a sliver of light tan with black marks peeking out of it. The thought of having that piece of silicone inside you was already making you desperate.
Once Abby’s jeans are pooling at her ankles she brings down her boxers in one swift motion, causing her strap-on to spring free right in front of you. You could already feel your mouth watering at the sight of it alone.
Abby notices your dumbfounded expression and smirks. “Look at you, princess…already drunk just by looking at my inked cock. Do you want it inside you, angel? Is that what you want?”
You look up at her and nod quickly while clenching your thighs at the same time. “Please, Abs…need it so bad….”
“I know you do, my sweet girl…” Her hand comes down to her side and gently holds your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. “How about you get it wet for me, yeah? Get my cock ready so I can fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”
Without even thinking twice, you wrap your hands around the strap-on, your fingertips covering over some of the fake ink that was plastered on it. The tip of it was practically face-to-face with you. You position it towards your mouth before opening it wide and taking in as much as you can down your throat. The strap barely reaches halfway, so you begin to stroke whatever your mouth can’t reach with your hands while bobbing your head up and down simultaneously.
Abby keeps her gaze fixated on you, then briefly looks over at the camera that is sitting on her bed. She brings a hand down to the back of your head, slowly guiding it up and down her inked strap. “That’s it, princess, just like that…” She mutters out to you as she quickly reaches over to grab her camera off of the bed. In doing so the strap accidentally lunges itself forward down your throat, causing you to gag. You take your mouth off of Abby’s strap for a moment to take a deep breath before looking up at her, now with the camera in her hands again.
“Smile for me, princess.”
The flash of the camera passes through your vision again. Another photo whirs out of the slot.
You get back to sucking on her strap, even harder this time out of pure desperation to have it inside your walls already. Abby pulls the photo out and tosses the camera aside, beginning to quickly shake it to see the final product.
You hear her let out a quiet groan once she sees the fully developed piece of film. “God…you look so beautiful like this, angel…sucking my cock like the good girl you are.” She sets the second photograph aside and gently grabs your head again to pull your mouth off of her strap. Her strong tatted hands then grab at your waist, effortlessly picking you up and placing you down on the center of her bed.
Abby tugs down at the hem of your shirt as an indication for you to take it off. “Take this off, princess. I need to see all of you.” You oblige, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground. Abby does the same with her muscle tank and sports bra, exposing the rest of her patchworked body to you. At this point, the arousal in between your legs just keeps growing and growing, along with the urge to also be completely ridden of the little black piece of fabric that was pressed against your pussy right now. You bring a desperate hand down to the jeweled band of your thong to take it off, only for it to be lightly smacked by Abby’s tatted hand.
“Except this. This stays on.”
You nod in response, setting your hands aside, and letting your girlfriend do the rest of the work for you. You spread your legs open while Abby positions herself on top of you. The tip of her inked strap falls right on the damp fabric covering your crotch, causing a whimper to escape from your mouth. She then hooks a finger under the fabric and shifts it to the side, revealing your gushing wet pussy to her.
It takes a minimal amount of effort for Abby to insert the tip of her strap inside of you before pushing in the first couple of inches. “Fuck, princess…look how it's going in…you’re always taking my cock so well…”
You look down to see the piece of inked silicone connecting your bodies. With a desperate need to be filled, you bring a trembling hand down to your pussy and use two fingers to spread your folds open so Abby could keep pushing her strap inside you. Your jaw drops in pleasure as she slowly pushes in a few more inches, and the two of you still don’t take your eyes off of it, both watching as the tattoos on her fake cock slowly disappear as it makes its way into your cunt.
Abby lets out a groan once she bottoms out before tightening the harness on her strap, making sure it's pressed closely against her cunt. You feel your pussy start to clench around the strap as it sits there inside of you. Your body was practically begging for some movement to happen.
“Abby, please…I-I need you to move…” You whimper out to her, looking down at the base of her strap that was resting below your heat. Within seconds you began to feel it moving inside you. Abby starts to thrust in and out of you slowly, but that slow pace progressively turns into a rapid one.
Before you knew it, you were gripping onto the sheets to keep yourself from possibly getting slammed against the headboard, despite Abby’s firm hands holding your hips down. Your tits and thighs were bouncing and jiggling uncontrollably. Moans and whimpers were escaping from the two of you. But most importantly, Abby was hitting that special spot inside you with every single thrust.
She wasn’t stopping her pace at all…until that familiar phrase slipped from your mouth.
“Abby…I-I’m getting close…”
That’s when she stopped. That’s when she pulled her strap out of you. That’s when you snapped back to reality…for now.
You quickly shook your head as you watched her inked strap practically pull itself out of your pussy. “No….no no no no, Abby! Why would you do that?!” You whined out in protest. You let your hands go from the sheets and brought them to her hips, attempting to bring her closer to you so she could slip herself back inside of you.
Unfortunately, your attempt to do so was unsuccessful. Abby shook her head and pushed your hands off of her hips. “I’m sorry angel, but I’m not letting you cum like this. Not after that stunt you pulled today.”
You felt your body break at the possible feeling that you weren’t gonna be able to finish tonight, but you understood that you still needed to be taught a lesson.
“So…You’re not gonna let me cum at all tonight?” You mutter out to her quietly. The smirk that shows up on her face once again tells you something different.
“Oh, my sweet girl…I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to let you cum at all…” She brings a hand to your jaw and gently strokes it with her thumb. “You’re going to cum, but you’ll do it my way. All fours, princess.”
That statement alone had you flipping onto your stomach in an instant. At this point, you were willing to do anything to get a release, even if it meant having to do things her way.
Once you were on all fours, you soon felt Abby’s lips start kissing at your shoulder, slowly making its way down to your lower back. “You have no idea…how good you look for me like this…” she murmurs in between kisses. She plants some more kisses on your lower back, specifically on your tattoo that rests above the band of your thong. Your first tattoo. The one that Abby put onto your body the first day you met her. It gave Abby so much pride to see her work on you, especially in the position you’re in right now.
You feel the weight of the bed shift around for a bit and look over your shoulder to see Abby reaching for her camera again. She brings a hand to your waist to keep your back straight. “I want you to stay just like this, princess, okay?” You nod in response, resting your head on the pillow as you perk your ass farther up in front of her.
With her camera in one hand, Abby uses her other hand to shift your thong to the side again before positioning her inked strap at your tight entrance. Given how soaked you were at this point, it slides in with a lot less effort the second time around. You let out a whimper once she bottoms out, causing you to involuntarily jerk your hips at her.
As a result, Abby gives you a light smack on your ass. “Stay still, angel…I need this one to come out perfect.” She hovers the camera on top of you and looks through the viewfinder, making sure you’re perfectly centered.
You hear the flash behind you once again, followed by the whirring sound right after.
Abby sets the camera aside and places both hands at your hips, beginning to thrust into you at that same slow pace she was doing before. It didn’t take long for Abby to speed it up. Now she was back to hitting your g spot with every single thrust of her strap.
“Fuck…look at you, my sweet girl…taking my tatted cock so well..” She tells you in between her thrusts. “I bet you wish…someone could get a picture of this, hmm?”
The pleasure Abby’s giving you is so intense that you can barely decipher what she’s saying to you. She keeps talking you through it, but her voice slowly starts to fade through the blood pumping in your eardrums and the feeling of TV static filling your brain. You find yourself slowly slipping into a newfound headspace as Abby continues to pound herself into your pussy.
Regardless of how drunk you were feeling from it, you try your best to form a response to whatever she tells you.
“F-Feels s-so good, Abs…D-don’t stop…” you slur out to her.
Your entire body feels heavy right now, but you make an effort to extend one of your hands behind you and hold one of hers. You grasp onto Abby’s hand tightly as she keeps fucking you.
Abby notices and clutches your hand into hers as it remains on your hips. “Don’t worry princess, I got you, just stay with me, yeah? I promise you’ll get to—fuck—“ Abby cuts herself off, moaning at the feeling of the leather harness rubbing against the small barbell that rested above her clit. This motivates her to thrust even faster into you, now with a desire to chase her release.
As her pace gets faster, you start to get closer. Your cunt begins to repeatedly clench itself around her strap, indicating that you were going to cum. You try to tell her that you’re about to cum, but you were already getting so fucked into this headspace that you were struggling to get the words out of your mouth. As a result, you start to dig your fingers into the back of Abby’s hand to get her attention.
Abby felt your nails digging into her hand, which were already forming crescent indents on her inked skin. She looks over at you, seeing your fucked out expression with your mouth agape against the pillow and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Are you gonna cum, angel?” she asks, only receiving a slow nod followed by a few desperate gasps from you as a response. “I-fuck, I’m gonna cum too…Just let it out for me, princess, you deserve it.” While keeping one hand on your hips, she brings her free hand around your waist to rub quick circles on your throbbing clit as she continues to fuck you relentlessly.
And that’s what sends you over the edge. A string of whines and mewls escape from your mouth once you get there. You dig your nails deeper into Abby’s hand while your other hand fists the corner of the pillow. Your thighs begin to tremble, and your cunt pulses a few more times around the strap before fully coating it with your slick. Abby finishes right after you with a loud groan, completely cumming inside the harness. She keeps herself inside you for a little bit before slowly pulling out, letting out a quiet grunt at the sight of the string of slick connecting between your pussy and the tip of her strap.
Your body was completely limp at this point, and Abby could tell. She guides your lower half back down onto the bed so you’re lying down on your side. As you bring yourself back to reality, you feel the warmth of her hand stroking your jaw, leading you to slowly blink your eyes open. The first thing you see is her eyes scanning yours, making sure you were okay after your intense release.
“There she is…” she says quietly, smiling right after. “Are you okay, angel? I didn’t go too hard on you did I?”
You slowly shook your head in response, smiling back at her as you try to catch your breath. “Of course not, Abs…you felt amazing…” you pant out to her.
Abby lets out a sigh of relief before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips before kissing your forehead. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up now, okay?”
You watch as Abby gets off of the bed and takes off her strap before slipping her boxers back on and heading into her bathroom. You hear the sound of the water running in the background, knowing that she was drawing a bath for you right now.
As the water continues to run, Abby jogs out of the bathroom and heads over to the bed to pick up all of the developed photos that were spread out on the sheets. She looks through each one of them before pulling out her wallet and storing them inside. You can’t help but let out a giggle over it. Her wallet was so full of your photos that you could easily see the thickness of it from the side.
Abby looks over to you as she closes her wallet. “What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you think you have too many pictures of me in there?”
She shakes her head in disagreement. “Nonsense. there’s no such thing as too many pictures of you.” You watch her walk over to your side and feel her lips planting another kiss on your cheek.
“Besides…they’re for my eyes only, remember?”
requested tags 🏷️: @tokkismari @onlinelesbo @elliens4 @thepurplebutterflyysblog @kindtim3
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let's go, don't wait (e.m. x f!reader)
inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best!
summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him.
cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, some sexual themes. some discussions of bad parents. eddie had some sad parts of his childhood. all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (11k)
eddie is 32, reader is 30. so older!reader i guess, idk.
i already started writing the part two which is almost entirely smut.
Jingle. Click. Creak.
“Mmmm.”
Eddie knows that groan anywhere, the deep primal urging of a one Gareth Emerson and the giggles of his girlfriend, Tatianna Edwards. They stumble into the apartment, lips attached, hands grabbing and fisting each other’s layers from the cold.
“Hi guys,” he calls out, his tone was as bored and annoyed as he hoped it would be. His eyes don’t leave the TV, transfixed on the screen while he watches another YouTube compilation of the best guitar solos of all time. He disagrees with most of them, but it’s enough to drone on in the background while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. He’s never even posted. Not once. Not even a picture on his profile.
“Hi Ed,” Tati chirps, clicking the side table lights on. He can smell her Chloe perfume when she comes to give him a hug hello. Her arms wrap around him from behind the couch, cheeks touching, a few of her butterfly twists falling forward over his shoulder.
“Did you stay in tonight?” she asks, pressing a glossy smooch to his cheek.
“Sure did,” he huffs, arms crossing over hers in a semblance of an embrace. Her gold bracelets are cool against his skin, her gold rings match his silver ones. He thought when Tati entered the picture that he and Gareth would’ve started to drift apart. Instead, Tati became Eddie’s new best friend – Gare really took ‘date the girl version of Eddie’ to heart. They were two peas in a pod.
“You should’ve come out, there were a lot of single girls there – you’re a good dancer, you coulda snagged one,” she sounds like a mother trying to set him up. Eddie tilts his head up and looks at her from below, her deep skin shimmering with the glitter fallout from her eye makeup. She always looks pretty with ease, even with her makeup smudged – like she meant to do that.
“Oh, I’m sure,” he smiles tightly, but the look falls to something soft when Tati lets go and her almond shaped manicured nails rake gently over his scalp through his conditioned curls.
“You can’t just keep picking up girls from shows, dude,” Gareth chides playfully, coming around the couch to sit next to him, “They’re starting to get waaaay too young for you at the bars.”
“Yeah, perv,” Tatianna teases, ruffling his hair before curling up on the recliner closer to the TV.
“Can we please not talk about this again,” Eddie sighs, sinking further into the cushions. He presses on his eyes with the heels of his hands, “You do this every time you guys come back from a date.”
“We gotta get you on Hinge, or something,” Gareth says.
“Tinder at the very least,” Tatianna follows.
“Okay, I’m going to bed,” Eddie grunts when he gets up, a little dizzy at the speed before he finds his footing, “Don’t be too loud tonight.”
“Just trying to help!” Tati calls out, “You deserve to be too loud at night, too!”
Eddie sucks his teeth before he turns the corner to the hallway, disappearing for the night while his friends fell more in love.
It feels like they’re disassembling a bomb. Eddie sulks in a seat at the kitchen table while Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Gareth chatter behind him. Jeff and his wife sit across from him with just as much excitement as the group opposite them. Eddie frowns, bangs too long over his eyes, hands sweating onto the back of his banged up stickered phone case.
“I think you should put the picture of the guitar last, it doesn’t have your face in it. I’d swipe past you,” Robin points at the screen in front of him while he tries to make sense of his Hinge profile.
“Well you’re a whole lesbian Rob, so you’d swipe past me anyway,” Eddie’s clipped words make the group laugh instead of making them back off. His shoulders sink immediately. This was mortifying.
“She’s right though,” Steve pipes up, “They’ll think you’re some weirdo who's obsessed with his guitar if you — well, actually then maybe it’s fine…”
“Why don’t you—” Jeff starts.
“You’re married and you’ve been with Alycia since 2014. Your opinions are void,” Eddie interrupts with a sigh.
Jeff lets out a laugh from his broad smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Why don’t you focus on your answers to the questions rather than the pictures? Girls love stuff like that. You’re smart, you’re a good writer.”
“Babe, they’re not gonna care about his answers if the first picture they see is of an out of focus guitar taken on an iPhone 4S,” Alycia cocks her head at Jeff, “Like, at least be honest with him.”
“I know you’re squinting in that picture from Jeff’s wedding but maybe you can put that one first,” Nancy points to the screen and then scrolls down a little. It lands on a photo of Jeff and Eddie, both sweating from the night's activities. His dress shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, silver chains and tattoos on full display, tie tied around Jeff’s forehead like a makeshift Rambo.
“Yeah, you look really good in it,” Robin agrees.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Tati shuffles into the kitchen, “I got in touch with the photographer from the show two weeks ago at Wraith Bar and he’s sending me some pictures.”
“You can use the six pictures you’re tagged in from the last three years,” Tatianna scolds, “You look like a bum in them.”
The group frowns and tosses glances at each other, it’s true. The more recent pictures they had of Eddie were far and few between. He was either blinking or off to the side, blurry or ducking out of frame. Every picture where he looks like himself was either from a show or had Chrissy in it, and he deleted all of those three years ago.
“Stop, you look so fine in these,” Tatianna squeals, “The girls are gonna love you.”
Everyone but Eddie huddles around Tatianna to scroll through the pictures. Some of him mid shred with sweat pouring down his chest. Some of him screaming into the mic, hair wild and wet around his face. There was one, that he begrudgingly really liked, where his head leaned back into the light with a winning Munson smile. It was when he heard the opening drums to cover ‘The Immigrant Song’ as a gag – but not really a gag ‘cause he loves that song. It gets everyone at the bar pretty excited – even if they only know the song from School of Rock.
Eventually, Eddie isn’t even holding his phone, it’s being passed between Tati, Steve, and Robin while he dictates his answers to stupid questions. By the time his profile is finished, his head is hidden in his mass of curls, resting his forehead on his forearms at the table.
“Are we done now?” he asks into the space between his face and the woodgrain. Despite the winter air flowing through the kitchen window, he’s overheated with embarrassment. There are suddenly too many people around, too much talking, too much giggling at his expense. He tilts his head back up and takes a full breath through his nose and out through his mouth –
“Oh shit! You matched with someone!”
“How? I didn’t even look at anyone yet,” Eddie’s brows furrow while his head slowly comes to center.
“Don’t worry about it, dingus,” Robin chides, “Just talk to her.”
Eddie takes the phone and looks at her profile. Rachel, 27, Vet tech. She’s pretty, soft eyes, great smile. He swallows thickly before he goes to his ‘Matches’ and types three letters that felt like they took ten years to write:
Hey.
The chats start fast and die faster, some flirty banter here and there before he’s too nervous or quickly bored. His heart squeezes every time he gets a notification, a buzz in his pocket, a reminder of a message. Some girls don’t want a relationship and that’s fine, that’s just not what he’s looking for. Some girls ask the big questions first and he can’t answer right away. Some girls just aren’t his type and he isn’t theirs either.
The first date he goes on ends with her excusing herself to the bathroom before they even get to order dinner. She doesn’t come back — he’s not even sure what he did. It started off fine, she was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Fun and easy conversation, a voice that sounded like powder puffs and sugar scented perfume. If he blurred his vision a little, she could’ve been Chris. But she wasn’t Chris.
Maybe that’s why she left. Maybe she got the vibe that he was preoccupied with her looking like his ex.
Maybe it was because he said, ‘You remind me so much of my ex-wife,’ before they got to order dinner.
His second date wasn’t much better. He was proud of himself for not going for another Chrissy look alike, but it was clear that this new girl was on a hunt for a husband.
“So are you planning on getting the tattoos removed?” she had asked, pursing her red lips. He was surprised at how well her lipstick stayed on after eating a pasta dish. Whenever he wears makeup for a show, it smudges before the lights come up.
“Uh, no why?” he asked.
“Just y’know, thinking ahead — family photos and whatever,” she shrugged. His mouth had never run so dry in his life. The chicken alfredo turned in his stomach.
The third ended up being a quickie in the bar bathroom only for her to leave right after and unmatch him without as much as a ‘Thanks for a good night!’ He at least wanted to be a gentleman about it.
The fourth fizzled out and neither of them felt the connection.
The fifth felt weird because they had talked so much on the app that they didn’t have anything left to talk about when they went out for drinks.
A month had gone by and all he had to show for it was five bad dates and dozens of unanswered chats. Eddie was found sitting in his bed in the dark, only the light on his phone keeping him illuminated while he thumbs through Instagram. Another app that he has for no reason, he never posts, he never shares anything. He just scrolls.
He wonders if Chrissy’s on Hinge. Eddie’s stomach lurches at the thought of coming across her profile. All blonde and blue eyes, all sweet and spunky, all the right answers to her curated questions. Photos of her in the Maldives, in her friend’s weddings, of her in Chicago after she moved. His heart hammers, sweat collects on his bare chest, heating up the chain lying flat against it until it sticks. He quickly swipes out of Instagram to his home screen, a photo of Robin and Steve flipping him off from the stage after a Corroded Show during load out. He holds his thumb on the app until all the apps shake, thumb hovering over the ‘x’ on the corner to delete the Hinge for good.
What’s another three years of being single?
“Ed?” he hears Tati on the other side of the door, her soft knock following her voice, “I got Indian and I’m not gonna eat it all. Gare doesn’t want it, you want it?”
“Yeah, sure,” he hums. She opens the door and sighs at the darkness. He squints as the light pools in from the hallway and sees her lean her shoulder against the door frame.
“Are you in here sulking?” she asks, one brow raising.
“Yeah, Tat, I’m in here sulking,” he groans, laying flat on his mattress, “I like to sulk. Let me sulk.”
“Don’t sulk,” she puts on a pout and flicks his light on, leaving the containers of rice and chicken saag. He groans when the light stings his eyes, tossing a forearm over his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice falling into kindergarten teacher territory. She never realized her profession would come so handy living with two grown men, “Why’re you being such a baby in here?”
“I think I’m gonna delete the app,” he murmurs, still hiding under the protection of his tattooed arm. The pressure feels good on his face, releasing the tension starting to brew behind his eyes. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch period at work, the hunger was starting to catch up to him.
“Don’t delete it,” she shakes her head, crawling onto the end of his bed. She takes her twists out of her jumbo claw clip and readjusts to pull them all back away from her face. Tati eases his phone out of his hand and slides her glasses on, flinging his dead arm off his face to use his Face ID. He whines, face scrunching is disapproval.
“I told you to stop doing that,” Eddie complains, sitting up against his pillows before crawling out of bed to get the food waiting on his dresser, “Do you have any naan or…?”
“Do I look like a food bank, Munson? Damn,” she tilts her head and he raises his brows in a silent ‘Well, do you?’
She sighs deeply, “Yes, I have extra naan but you can only have it if you don’t delete the app and eat with us in the living room.”
“Those are two totally different asks, Tati,” Eddie huffs.
“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugs before starting to laugh, “Actually, I totally do.”
The phone buzzes in her hand and Tatianna’s grin only widens when she sees the notification, “You have a new like.”
“Whatever,” he shrugs, face laced with disappointment and frustration, “It’s gonna be another dud. Why bother if there’s no point? Like, this can’t actually be how people meet each other —“
Tatianna opens her mouth to protest but Eddie interrupts his own thought before she can speak, “You and Gareth are the anomaly.”
“What if the sixth time’s a charm? She looks really cute,” She smiles, teeth bright against her smile, cheekbones glistening where her moisturized skin hits the light.
He rolls his neck and sighs while Tatianna continues to encourage him, “Just try. You owe yourself that. Chrissy wouldn’t—.”
“Fuck Chrissy, Tat,” Eddie’s voice raises slightly, suddenly defensive. His chest burns at the sound of her name, heat rising up through his neck to his face, “I don’t really give a fuck what Chrissy would and wouldn’t want. ‘Cause if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have to be on these stupid fucking apps.”
“Whew, tell me how you really feel Ed,” she says while she stands up off the bed to walk towards him.
“Look, I get you’re still mad about how things went down with Chris. I know you’re still hurting, but you’re denying yourself a chance to start over — just shoot this girl a message. She seems cool,” Tati speaks so gently to him that he soothes instantly. She offers his phone, still open on the new profile — he’s hesitant at first but he takes it from her to look at the screen.
There you are. You are cute. Your profile is simple: your name, age thirty, your opening tagline ‘idk i’m just out here i guess’. He lets a puff of air out of his nose at the sentiment — ‘Same,’ he thinks.
“Fine,” he says finally, “I’ll look through her stuff and I’ll message her. Are you happy?”
“Thrilled,” she smiles, “So thrilled that I’ll even let you have the extra samosa.”
He follows her out of the room with his phone and food in hand, looking at her fondly when she passes him a tinfoil covered piece of naan in the kitchen, “You’re my best fucking friend, dude.”
“I thought I was your best friend?” Gareth pouts from the kitchen table, D&D notes littered in front of him.
Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head while he considers, “You’re alright I guess.”
When the food is done and he’s gotten a proper look at your profile he decides to bite the bullet — fingers shaking while he matches back with you. He doesn’t start with ‘hey’ this time because Robin and Steve said that was boring, so he tries something new:
wild that you’re just ‘out here’, me too.
…
…
…
lol, twin behavior. how’s your night?
Eddie’s heart hammers at the response. He’s surprised at the reaction, he hadn’t had that with any of his other chats, normally expecting them to die off after the first ‘Hey, how are you?’ pleasantry. But maybe this could be different, maybe this could be fun.
scored some indian food from one of my roommates so it’s one of my better nights.
ooh, i’m so jealous. i have buyers remorse from some baked ziti i ordered. should’ve just made it.
what did you get?
chicken saag, still jealous?
i’m more of a saag paneer girl but consider me over here seething.
Eddie grins into the phone, cheeks hot while he thinks about what to say back. He skims over your profile again, eyes stilling at a photo of you laughing on what looks like a cruise deck. The sun hits you like a golden streak across your eyes. The caption reads ‘the last time i felt a single shred of genuine happiness’, he huffs an airy giggle before going back to the chat.
you’re funny, did you know that?
um ya, i’m the funniest person i know, actually. 🥰
that's crazy cause i’m the funniest person i know. and since now i know you, it’s looking like we gotta battle for who the funniest is.
Jesus fucking Christ Munson, why can’t you just be normal? Why can you just say ‘lol’ and call it a night? He frets. His leg bounces while he waits for your reply, food rolling in his stomach. The cool metal of his rings is welcomed on his warm cheeks while he leans against his hand on the arm of the couch. The few minutes he waits for the buzz of his phone feel like eternities. But there you are to save him from his embarrassment:
lmao okay. where did you wanna battle?
there’s a bar in the city that i think could host. you around tomornight?
tommorow night* sorry, fuck, i was trying so hard to be smooth with it.
TOMORROW***** FUCK. LET ME LOG OFF FOR ETERNITY REAL QUICK.
yiiiiikes! embarrassing. but this proves you actually might be funnier than me. i’m not a sore loser so i’ll go on a date with you if that’s what you’re asking.
do you drink? it doesn’t have to be a bar.
i do! where did you have in mind?
there’s a spot called little spoon saloon in the city if you’re familiar. sorta cozy.
oh yeah sounds great for a battle 🙄
but yeah i know it, that’s not too far from my place. maybe we’ve seen each other before and never known it. two ships passing in the night~*
does seven work for you? i know it’s a monday, so we can do earlier if you gotta be up early or something.
sevens fine :)
okay :)
:)
:)
see ya tomorrow!
Eddie bites his lower lip, breathing steadily through his nose while he sends over his number. Anything to get out of looking at the app for at least another day, anything to spare him from potentially running into Chrissy’s profile despite her being in a different state. It was getting close to the holidays, she could be around at any moment.
Before he can spiral, his phone buzzes again – this time a text from an unknown number. His grin widens, too caught up in the excitement bubbling in his chest to feel Tatianna’s stare from the recliner.
hi, it's me. jsyk if you don't reach out by like, two tomorrow -- i'm considering it a cancellation and i do have a 50% cancellation fee. sorry!
50%? stop selling yourself so short, kid.
but don’t worry, i won’t cancel.
no? you’re not scared to battle?
i’m never scared of a battle. :) (A lie.)
see you tomorrow.
“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tatianna smiles, cheeks tight from being unable to hide her excitement.
“Are you talking to a girrrrrl?” Gareth teases. Eddie let’s out a ‘tssss’ while he stands up and stretches, quirking a brow at his best friend.
“Is it a girl? You takin’ her out?” he asks again.
“Yeah G, it’s your mom,” he shrugs, “Night y’all.”
“Ed,” Tati whines, “Come on.”
Pink floats across his cheeks, itching his nose to hide his goofy smile behind his hand.
“Yeah, it’s a girl. And yeah, I’m taking her on a date tomorrow,” he groans. Tatianna squeals, shimmying with giddiness while the recliner rocks with her.
Eddie’s too caught up in hiding his face, “Ugh, she’s cuuuute, Tati, what am I supposed to do?”
“Show her what she’s been missing,” Tati shrugs, “Everyone needs an Eddie.”
Last night, Eddie fell asleep caught in a memory that became a dream. He’s eight years old at the YMCA, Wayne sitting in the stands watching him – this is maybe two weeks after his dad dropped him off before he got sent to prison. Wayne wanted to make sure his schedule stayed the same as it could, so Saturday swim lessons it was – today was diving off the block.
Eddie had been dreading this lesson for a month, knowing that level 2.5 meant you had to at least try. In level two, they had you stand on the block just to get used to it. He could barely breathe for the ten seconds it was up there, tears stinging his eyes while his teacher encouraged him to come closer to the edge. Three of his classmates had already asked if they were allowed to jump off. It looked fun but it was just so high up. What if it hurts? What if he landed the wrong way?
He was up soon, standing behind the block with the rest of the kids, shivering from being out of the water. He could dive off the edge of the pool just fine – in fact, his teacher said he was a great diver, especially for an eight year old. So it should be no problem to dive off the block, he just had to do the same thing he always does. Just higher.
Gareth, before Gareth was his best friend, climbs up the block and puts his feet at the edge of the white plastic and metal. His teacher, Miss Tiffany, tells him to put his arms up and bend his knees and to dive at the whistle. The whistle blows and Gareth leaps – but he doesn’t dive smoothly into the water.
“BELLY FLOP!” Jason Carver yells from the edge of the pool where all the kids who already dove sat. They start teasing him relentlessly, Miss Tiffany helping him out of the water to inspect his red belly. Tears well up in Gareth’s eyes, his mom leaning over the bannister from the seating area.
“Are you okay, baby?” she asks. Gareth burns red with embarrassment, only encouraging the cackling kids to get crueler.
Miss Tiffany puffs her whistle three times, “If you tease again, you’re not allowed to go to free swim. Do you understand me?”
The group quiets, slowly kicking their feet in the water.
“Alright Eddie, you’re up next!”
He gulps, climbing up on the block slowly before standing to full height with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, like his Uncle Wayne taught him to do when he was feeling nervous. When Eddie’s eyes opened, a chill ran through his chest – for some reason the block seemed higher than ever.
“Ready Freddie?” Miss Tiffany asked, treading water in her red bathing suit. She grinned up at him, knowing that the phrase always made him giggle – but not today.
“Arms up, knees bent,” she continues. Ed looks down at the water and the room spins, he can hear Jason and the class giggling. Hear the splashes from the kicks of their feet.
The whistle blows. He doesn’t move.
The whistle blows, again. He puts his arms down.
“You okay, Eddie? You can do it! You’re a great diver!” she cheers.
Eddie chews on his lower lip, thinking about the smack of the water when it hit Gareth’s stomach. The laughter. The teasing. The potential of the pain.
The whistle blows again.
Eddie climbs down off the block, sniffling when he makes it back to the pool deck, “I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.”
“C’mon Ed, I know you can do it! Do you want me to save you for last?” she asks, her smile still bright and encouraging. Eddie sniffles again, eyes burning with tears while Jason and his friends start to tease him, too.
“Swimming sucks,” he bites, stomping towards the boys room, grabbing his ratty towel off one of the benches on the way in. He’s only in the locker room for a few minutes before he hears the door open and Wayne’s apologetic voice talking to Miss Tiffany from the deck floor.
“He’s just goin’ through a lot right now,” Wayne says, his gruff voice rattling off the metal of the room.
“Eddie?” Tiffany’s voice calls.
“Come out here, son,” Wayne calls, “Y’know, if your decent.”
Eddie sniffles back his tears again, shuffling over to the door while Miss Tiffany waits with his Uncle.
“Do you maybe wanna stay a little late today and we can practice diving off the block when class is over?” she offers, “I know it can be scary to do it in front of your classmates, but I want you to pass to level three!”
“No thanks Miss Tiffany,” he mumbles to the tiles on the floor.
“That’s okay Eddie, maybe we can try again next week. How’s that sound? I know you can do it,” she says softly.
“Okay,” he murmurs before turning on his heel and moping back into the locker room. Wayne was waiting by the check in desk when Eddie emerged after changing, his ratty towel slung off his shoulder.
“You okay?” Wayne asked.
“Yeah, can we just go home?”
“Sure kid, was gonna stop and get us some lunch if you wanted,” Wayne’s eyes crinkle with his smile, “Wanna go to McDonalds?”
Eddie returns the smile half heartedly, “Yeah.”
They walk to Wayne’s pick-up hand in hand, despite some parents thinking he’s ‘too old’ to be doing that. He needed the support, and his uncle was never one to make him feel like he didn’t have it.
“So d’you wanna try again next week? Your starting form was great, buddy,” Wayne asks while Eddie puts his seatbelt on. Eddie considers it. Getting to the edge of the block and making Jason Carver eat his own words. Making him look like a loser for a change.
But the words ring in his ear ‘BELLY FLOP!’ The relentless teasing if he didn’t do it this week and then messed up next week. He’d be a baby and a joke.
“I don’t wanna do swimming anymore, Uncle Wayne,” he huffs.
“You sure?” his uncle frowns, putting the car into gear, “You’re really good, Ed. Y’could be on the swim team.”
“I don’t wanna come back. I quit,” he repeats. He crosses his arms while they pull out of the parking lot, watching the rest of the kids pool out of the doors with smiles on.
Eddie wakes up to his alarm blaring, back in his 32 year old body. He swears that the air of his bedroom smells like chlorine.
Eddie made sure to text you at 1:59 PM like an asshole.
still on for tonight? :)
so close to having to pay my cancellation fee.
but yes, still on for tonight :)
sorry, work’s been wild today. would’ve texted you sooner!
you’re off the hook…
for now. 😡
He likes your little attitude, he decides. That little hint of sass in your messages keeps him on his toes and it’s not lost on him that this is probably how you flirt. He wonders, selfishly, how easy you are to fluster. You both exchange a few back and forths before he’s finishing up work for the day and heading to Wheeler’s for a campaign chat.
The texts completely drop off while he gets ready to see you. He takes an extra long time in the shower, using the tiniest squeeze of Tati’s curl cream when he comes out because it makes his hair look good. He scrubs his face raw before shaving, following up with the skin care routine he kept up with, even though Chrissy curated it for him.
Once dressed, he stepped quietly out to the living room to grab his jacket in the closet and pull out his boots.
“You used my curl cream, I see,” Tatianna crosses her arms. He blushes.
“Don’t be mad, I just wanna look good,” he puts on a faux pout, eyes rounding while he slides the leather over arms.
“You look really good,” she smiles, “It’s gonna be great.”
Eddie shoves his socked feet in his Docs, worn in from years of wear, and looks up at her, “I’m kind of excited.”
“You should be! I don’t know, I just have a really good feeling about this one,” she smirks, “Text me at some point, let me know how it goes.”
“It’s a better indicator if he doesn’t text you, Tati,” Gareth says, coming up behind her, “You look sharp, dude.”
“Sharp?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “What’re you? Eighty?”
Tatianna clicks on her phone to look at the time, “Can you get the fuck outta here? You’re gonna be late!”
“I’m going, I’m going!” he laughs, arms up while he grabs his keys from the hook by the door, “Wish me luck, bye!”
Eddie felt sick. Suddenly feeling like he was standing at the edge of the pool in ‘98.
When he got his keys in the ignition of his Honda Civic, a text came through immediately. He swallowed tightly, in some way expecting it to be you. In some way, expecting you to be canceling on him.
Instead, it was Tatianna in the big group chat:
here, we made a playlist for you
Eddie clicks on the Spotify link and laughs.
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
And so on. The music automatically connects, the opening guitar ripping through his speakers. Eddie quickly types up a response on his phone before pulling out into the street.
very creative, edwards.
someone in this house has to be.
‘In the car, I just can't wait,
to pick you up on our very first date.
Is it cool if I hold your hand?
Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?’
He rolls his eyes as Mark and Tom serenade him in the car, laughing at the lyrics. It’d been a while since he’d listened to this album, let alone this song. While he won’t admit it to Gareth or his girlfriend, it was exactly what he needed before he got to the bar.
‘Do you like my stupid hair?
Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?
I'm just scared of what you think,
you make me nervous so I really can't eat.’
“Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over,” he sings along, fingers tapping on his steering wheel while he waits at a red light. He’s on the fourth replay of the song by the time he pulls up. The ignition cuts off the lyrics before the chorus, he takes a big breath before opening the door. Just a couple minutes past seven, but he told you he was running a little late, so you wouldn’t be mad.
His phone buzzes to Robin, Steve, and Jeff reacting to the playlist Tati sent. Alicia, Jeff, and Nancy sent him sweet good luck messages. Robin and Steve sent them a picture from a bar they were at, flipping him off.
‘Break a leg, dingus,’ came in her follow up voice memo. Eddie considers making this new picture his phone background.
He swallows hard when he gets to the door, his bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth in apprehension. He nods to himself, “You got this, Munson.”
Another deep breath, he’s still ten, he’s still afraid to dive off the diving block. What if it hurts? What if he belly flops?
‘What if you don’t? What if you dive this time?’ He thinks to himself.
He opens the door to the bar, his ten year old self puts one foot on the diving block. The chatter of a few conversations at once is disorienting, so is the low light of the bar in comparison to the neon outside. The man at the entrance asks for his ID and he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet as if it’s not obvious he’s been old enough to drink for eleven years.
“Here, man,” he says, somehow nervous he’ll get caught with a fake like he’s nineteen again.
The security’s light flashes over his birthdate and he passes it back with a short and gruff thank you. Eddie takes a few steps before checking his phone to remind him what you said you’d be wearing.
in a red cut off sweatshirt, jeans that look like dickies – hard to miss!
white airforces!
i’m here, looking for you
if you can’t spot me just approach the most off putting girl at the bar, it’s probably me :)
He smiles into the light of his phone. You’re are funny. His phone lights up again, another text bubble added to your previous one. Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest when he looks at it, knowing you’re really only moments away.
got you a guinness cause that’s what you said you liked on your profile.
it looks like battery acid tbh.
there’s a couple seats by the end of the bar, i’ll grab them.
He looks up from his phone finally to see a blur of red start maneuvering over to the end of the bar. That’s you. Oh shit, that’s you. Oh shit, you’re – fuck. You have a fat fucking ass in those jeans. He swallows again, shaking the horny thoughts out of his head through the tendrils of his hair. Another deep breath through the nose, out of the water to the diving block just to dive again. He walks the length of the bar and hears his name, your voice in real life – not through a voice note or on your profile.
“Ed?”
Eddie catches your eye and his heart sinks and leaps so quickly he thinks he’s going into cardiac arrest. You’re real pretty, even more so when you grin at him from a few feet away. You wave him over and he does his best to walk confidently towards you, taking his jacket off while he does. He doesn’t know it, but the other girls at the bar are looking. He’s all broad shoulders and dark tattoos, two silver chains and understated rings. Full lips and doe eyes. Tatianna never told a lie, he was unmistakably handsome – he just didn’t know what to do with it.
You toss your hair when you speak to the bartender from the end of the bar with a bright smile. The man puts two drinks in front of you and you leave cash in their wake. Eddie winces when he sees you pay, but tries to ignore the sting. In a way, it feels like he’s already losing – like he’s playing Sims with Robin and he’s not on track to get a gold reward on date night.
You’re hot and you know it, but he can tell it’s like you just found out. Your eyes are flirty no matter what you’re looking at, you’re full bodied and it’s like you know it’s making him salivate. Eddie can’t help but be nervous when he takes a seat next to you, fingers immediately drumming on the bar top in front of him.
“Guinness for you,” you say, sliding the pint glass in front of him.
“Thanks,” he smiles, “You didn’t have to do that. I asked you out, you’re not supposed to be paying for me.”
“I know, but – why don’t you get the next one and we’ll call it even?” you offer. He nods while he takes a sip, eyeing the lighter orangey liquid in your glass.
“Did you get a cider?” he teases.
“It’s a grapefruit beer, thank you,” your brows furrow at him while you take a sip. You have a good face, part of him wants to say that but it seems like a weird compliment. ‘Nice face.’ Like, what does that even mean? His tongue feels heavy, he can feel the sweat building under his curly bangs.
“Weaksauce,” he laughs, scrunching his nose, “Grapefruit beer? Not for me, toots.”
“Yeah, because you drink battery acid!” you tease back, “You’re a stout snob, huh?”
“Nah, just never heard of grapefruit beer. I always drink Guinness – or like, Miller light. Never really stray,” he shrugs.
“You wanna try mine?” you ask, sliding the glass to him.
“You sure?” he watches you nod and brings the beer to his lips. It’s tart, a little bubbly, hitting his tongue on the off beat from the stout before. It settles and then it’s sweet, he wonders if you’re the same.
Eddie smacks his lips, “I don’t hate it.”
“That’s such a stout snob thing for you to say,” you pull a face, bringing your drink back to sit in front of you.
“I’d offer you a sip of mine but I know you don’t like it,” he smiles, “Wouldn’t want to ruin the taste of your dessert beer.”
“Fuck off,” you shake your head and smile, taking another sip of your drink. The Guinness in his hand makes him feel less nervous, but not all the way – toeing the line of the end of the diving block but not scared to look down into the water. He can tell you’re nervous too by the way you pick at a hangnail on your thumb absentmindedly, the way you cross and uncross your legs. Eddie’s eyes linger for a moment at the way they spill over each other, squishing flat on the seat of the stool when you keep them uncrossed. He tries to discreetly follow the line of your thighs to your hips, up to your waist before getting ahead of himself and pulling his eyes away.
“How was your day?” you ask. Not the question he was expecting.
“My day?” he asks, brows raised while he tries to recollect anything before getting ready to see you.
“Uh, my day was good. Yours?” You fucking dumbass, you couldn’t just spare one detail? She’s gonna think you’re an asshole. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. Your smile fades a little and he feels a panicked chill rush in his chest.
“S-sorry, I should’ve elaborated. I sound like such a dick, sorry,” Eddie feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks, a clamminess starting up at his hairline, “I um, I went to work. Came home, went to a friend’s house for a minute and we talked about a campaign we’re putting together next weekend. I had some dinner, and then I started getting ready to see you and um – uh, now I’m here.”
“Campaign? Are you a politician or somethin’?” you quirk a brow while you look him over. He feels insecure under your gaze, he hopes you like his tattoos.
“No, no, it’s for Dungeons and Dragons.” Saying it outloud makes him feel like a loser, even though you don’t react like you think so.
“Cool,” you smile.
“Do you like, even know what that is?” Defensive already, waiting for you to make fun of him. Waiting for this to end up another mistake. Waiting to belly flop.
“Yeah, I know what it is,” you answer quietly again, this time your shoulders, “Have some friends that play.”
“Oh, cool. Cool,” Eddie nods, chest tightening, toying with his rings while you reach for your drink, “Um, I’m — yeah, sorry if that came off like, dickish. I didn’t mean to—.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” you shake your head when you say it, almost like it’s rehearsed. Like you’re always ‘okay’-ing something.
“Sometimes people think it’s weird when I tell them, I dunno,” he shrugs, still looking down at his rings, “If I’m being honest I haven’t been so great at this whole dating thing.”
You smile again and he looks up in time to see it, his breath hitches. You’re very pretty.
“If it makes you feel any better, I learned how to play Magic the Gathering twice to impress a boy. Two different ones,” you grimace, scrunching your nose, “Gross right?”
“Oof, that’s rough,” he jokes, “Magic the Gathering? That’s like, way worse than D&D.”
“Well the difference between you and me, is that I don’t still play,” you bite back, cocking your head while you take another drink.
“Didn’t impress those boys after all, huh?” he raises a brow and your mouth falls open in faux offense.
“You’re so mean,” you gasp.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Should’ve put that in my profile.”
“Oh, so you are mean?” you grin.
“The meanest,” he grins back, teeth straight and shiny. Full lips pulled tight against them, “How was your day?”
“I worked,” you shrug, “Not as exciting.”
“What do you do?” he asks, turning towards you on the stool, leaning one arm on the bar. He relaxes into the seat, legs spreading wide while his free hand runs nervously over his thigh.
“I’m a personal assistant to a jewelry maker,” you let out a half chuckle through your nose, “It sounds fake when I say it out loud. But basically, I just keep her schedule and run errands and keep her shit in order. She’s an older woman and she’s not the most tech savvy in the world — great at what she does though, really eccentric but I feel like you gotta be when you work in the arts like that.”
“That’s cool,” he says softly, watching you talk, “What kind of jewelry does she make?”
“Oh you’ll love this, since you like D&D and stuff,” you start, your excitement is infectious, his heart thrums, “She makes fine jewelry for the most part, but also makes anodized chain mail jewelry and wearable pieces for theater and ren fairs on the side. I told you, eccentric.”
“Oh, so she’s a little alchemist, huh?” he smirks.
“Kinda, yeah,” you shrug, heat hitting your cheeks while he keeps his gaze on you, “It’s cool to watch the first few times, and then you get bored.”
“I’m sure it’s the same for people who watch my band,” he laughs. You shake your head, a curve pulling from the corners of your lips while you finish your beer.
“Alchemist,” you repeat with a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re such a nerd.”
“What do you do for work?” he notices you fully turn when you ask, your knees toward him. He remembers Steve telling him once that it was always a good sign when they do that. Like Steve knows anything about body language and dating these days, he’s been platonically attached to Robin for years. His little guard dog.
“I’m a teacher,” he replies, knocking back the remainder of the Guinness in his glass.
“Hm,” you hum, looking him over suspiciously, “That’s surprising.”
“I work at a performing arts school,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s 2023, I’m allowed to have tattoos.”
“What do you teach?” you squint when you look him over a second time, “Actually, let me guess – drama?”
“Music theory,” he corrects.
“Ooh, big brain,” you joke, “That’s cool.”
“Big brain? I don’t know about that, I just like music,” he shrugs, “It makes sense to me.”
“When I was in high school everyone always talked about how hard music theory was – like, all the band kids,” you explain, there’s a sparkle starting to glint in your eye when you talk to him.
“You were hanging out with the band kids?” he tosses a sarcastic knowing look before taking his glass in his hands, “And I’m a nerd? I dunno girl, it’s not looking good for you here...”
“Even worse, I was dating one,” you grimace back.
“Fuuuuck, you were really fighting for your life in 2009 huh?” Eddie laughs low, lower lip tucking in between his teeth to run his tongue over it.
“2007, 2008 all the way to like, 2016,” you hide your face in one hand and he wishes you wouldn’t.
“Damn, that’s a long time,” he observes, “You didn’t marry that guy?”
You lift your head back up, and shake your head, “It was on and off for a long time, he’s not a fan favorite. It’s uh – it’s why I normally don’t date musicians. I almost didn’t match with you ‘cause of your first picture.”
Fucking Tatianna.
“Eek, sorry,” Eddie puts his hands up, “Should I go?”
“Do you play bass?” you wince.
“I play a lot of instruments,” he chuckles, “I can play the bass. But I’m not like…a bass player, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I know what you mean,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, “Made that mistake more than once.”
“What’s your favorite instrument that you play?” you ask, it’s almost girlish. He ponders it while you cross your legs, the toe of your shoe barely brushing the back of his calf but he knows it's there. You rest your chin on your fist while you watch him think about it. His brown eyes glint in the reflection of the light overhead, plush lips parted while he runs his hands over his stubble.
“I think I’d have to say…electric guitar? I’ve been playing that the longest,” he hopes you think that’s cool.
“Is it the same one that’s in your pictures?”
“The Warlock?” he asks with a grin, “Yeah, that’s my girl. Best relationship of my life, prob’ly the only lady who talks more than me.”
“It’s really nice. I like the color.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes darting to your knees where they sit between his, “Um, can I get you another drink? Do you want a beer or…?”
“If I get a real drink will you stop making fun of my beer?”
“I promise.” He slides off the stool, sad to see your close proximity to him fade away when he stands up.
“They have food here, right? I’m sort of hungry, if that’s okay,” your voice gets sheepish when you ask.
“Yeah, that’s okay. Did you eat dinner?” The words fall out of him too fondly.
“I had like, a huge spinach salad,” you explain, “Might not have been enough.”
Something tells him to press further before he buys you more liquor, lest this date go to the wayside too quickly, “Did you eat lunch?”
“I worked through lunch.”
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“I had a smoothie,” you confess.
“Okay, so before I get you a drink, why don’t I get you some chicken fingers or something?” he insists. You’re shy in your smile back to him, nodding along at his advice. Yes, you should eat more before you keep drinking with him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s just trying to get you tipsy, he’s never been that kind of guy – even when he’d bring home girls from the bar. (They’d at least be the same level of totally obliterated as he was.)
He beams back at you when you nod, “Atta girl.”
He doesn’t notice when your thighs clench.
The last chicken finger is eaten, the last fry of the basket he got for you to split crunched through. The conversation had lulled, not because you weren’t interesting – the nerves were getting to him, creeping up like vines along his chest. The look over the diving block at the water, it’s slow waves teasing him to jump.
“So um,” you began, swallowing your final fry and wiping your hands on a napkin, “Since you’re a teacher, how was school today?”
Eddie’s so used to this question that his response doesn’t change, always the same quote from the same movie. Forgetting he doesn’t know you like that, his mouth moves quicker than his desire to play things off cool.
“The worst day of my life, what do you think? Gosh!” Eddie sounds more like John Heder in 2004 than John Heder does now – but when he hears himself say it, he’s immediately embarrassed. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, nervous you won’t understand but instead – you laugh. And what a sound that is for him to hear.
“Oh, shit. I haven’t watched Napoleon Dynamite in years. Like, not since grade school.”
Eddie laughs with you, “Sorry, sorry, that’s like my go-to reaction at home when my roommates ask me that. I should’ve said something more normal like, ‘It was fine. The kids can’t stop trying to take TikTok fancams of me.”
“Roommates? Fancams? You’re so hip, tell me more,” you enthuse. He puts a finger up to stop you at first, locking eyes with the bartender so he can finally order another round of drinks.
“What kind of real drink do you want?” he asks.
“Just a marg on the rocks, salt,” you shrug.
“Psh, I said a real drink,” Eddie teases with a roll of the eyes, but they soften when you go to argue back, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
His toes inch towards the middle of the diving block.
“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he flirts. Eddie can see the heat hit your cheeks, the creep of a smile slowly curving upwards, you’re embarrassed. Nervous like he is. Maybe this is going just fine.
When the drinks arrive he slides the margarita towards you and sips his own Jack and Coke slowly through the tiny bar straw.
“Okay, so. I have two roommates. Gareth, who’s been my best friend since I was nine; and Tatianna who has been my best friend since I was twenty-nine,” he explains.
“So why aren’t you dating Tatianna?” you challenge. You miss the straw when you reach for it with your mouth, it slides over to the other side of the cup. You try again and miss, cheeks burning while Eddie looks at you continue to fuck up. His eyes glint mischievously while you hold in your frustrated laughter, “Stop looking at me.”
“It’s fine, I’ll wait while you get your life figured out over there,” he jokes, checking ‘the time’ on his wrist, “Shouldn’t be too long until you finally get it.”
“You’re so annoying,” you grit out playfully while you capture the straw between your teeth, “Should’ve put that on your profile, too.”
“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m not dating Tatianna because Gare’s going to propose to her when they go on vacation in a few weeks.”
“Oh! Yeah, that makes sense,” you nod, “Probably not a good idea to date your best friend’s almost wife.”
“Yeah, definitely not well advised,” he shakes his head, pulling his hair up off of his neck for a minute before dropping it down, “Plus, her last name is Edwards and I dunno…don’t think I could live with myself if I was ‘Eddie Edwards’.”
You laugh again and he hoped you would. It’s a goofy laugh, you don’t try to sound cute when you do it. He knows you must be a loud laugher, if your small ones are any preview to what you could really do. You don’t sound like Chrissy. Her laugh was dainty, feathery. Like how they teach you to giggle in an etiquette class – all soft edges, all smooth lines.
“You wanna take the girl’s last name?” you raise your brows, “Very forward thinking. Progressive.”
“I don’t know, something about it’s kinda hot right?” he asks cock of his head, “Plus, my dad sucks so I don’t want to keep repping him by having his last name.”
“Oh wow, my dad sucks, too,” you reply cheerily, “We have so much in common!”
“What was it you said before? ‘Twin behavior’?”
“Twin behavior, yes!” your hands meet both of his knees where he sits across from you, your tone is light and earnest, “You get me.”
Eddie takes in a hitch of breath, desperate to keep his cool when he feels your hands on him. It’s not even sexy but he could shoot straight to the moon if you asked him to. You use his knees as leverage to hop down from your stool, grabbing your drink before nudging him with your hip.
“If we’re still battling though, there’s an air hockey table in the back room if you wanna play,” you offer.
“Are you any good?” he wonders, hopping off the stool to follow you to the back.
“I’m amazing,” you grin, “Actually won seventeen first place trophies in the intergalactic air hockey competition – of course I’m fucking bad at it, that’s why it’s fun to play.”
Eddie laughs this time, it’s gruff and nicotine soaked. You’re already winning the battle for funniest person – you’re sharp with him and he’s starting to like it. He runs his hand over the side of the air hockey table in the empty back room, more and more pleased that he put this date together on a Monday. He slides a dollar into the machine so it whirs to life, the neon lights flicking on with a stutter.
“This reminds me of birthday parties when I was a kid,” you muse to yourself, reaching for the hockey disc trapped in your goal, “Can you help me?”
He nods, hand grazing your back to get you out of the way – you’re warm to the touch. If he was a braver man he would’ve pulled you into him but he’s not, instead squatting down to reach further into the goal where your game piece was.
“Hm,” he murmurs, reaching further back and barely touching the top of it, “It’s in here, it’s just back there. I can get it, just –” he sucks his teeth like he did the night before, getting to his knees to try. Music plays over head, stuff the new crop of bar goers would consider oldies. You smile at the opening ‘Damn, shawty snappin’...’ of T-Pain’s ‘Buy U A Drank’, but even more surprised when you hear Eddie sing along softly to himself.
“Snap ya fingers, do yuh step, you can do it all by yourself. Babygirl, what’s your name?”
“Not you knowing the lyrics,” you laugh.
“I was in highschool in 2007 of course, I know the lyrics,” he huffs, standing up, “I think it’s a bust for air hockey.”
“That’s fine,” you shrug, “We tried.”
“I know the club, close at three,” he lip syncs to himself before, turning his attention to you, “What’s the chances of you rollin’ with me?”
You back and forth to each other in time with the lyrics before settling back down in your spot at bar.
“You even know the Yung Joc part? Damn,” you laugh again, he loves it.
“Why’re you so surprised? Is it the tattoos?” he asks.
“Well yeah, you definitely give off a ‘loved Avenged Sevenfold’ in high school vibe,” you scooch your stool closer to his, your knees slotting between his open ones like a perfect puzzle. It’s not enough though, and he’s not sure if it’s himself or the Jack and Coke that encourages him, but he reaches for one of the legs of your stool to pull you closer.
“Hey,” he says, your faces only a few inches apart.
“Hey,” you respond. You catch his eyes flick briefly to your lips before they meet yours again. You can see the light smatter of freckles over his nose, long faded from the summer.
“You’re right, I was really into Avenged Sevenfold when I was in highschool.”
“I figured. I was into that whole scene thing, back then. All those singers that are mad at their dad’s and like, in retrospect, all hate women I guess,” you realize it as you speak.
“I probably would’ve thought you were cute,” he guesses.
“No, you would’ve called me a poser,” you correct, “Don’t lie.”
He hesitates before nodding, “No, no, you’re right I definitely would’ve called you a poser. Did you like Fall Out Boy and all of that shit?”
“Don’t shit on the music I liked,” you frown, “That’s not cool.”
“I’m not, I’m not,” he assures, pulse speeding, “I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry.”
You continue talking about music, high school, college, some ins and outs. Nothing too serious. Nothing too intense. But by now, Eddie’s feeling nice and if one thing’s for certain:
He wants to fucking kiss you. Toes at the edge of the diving block, Miss Tiffany’s whistle caught between her teeth.
“So now that we’re three drinks in, can I ask you a personal question?” you ask, your eyes a little glassy. You’ve confessed that you’re tipsy, but aware, that if you have one more drink you won’t be – so Eddie already paid the tab.
“What do you wanna know?” he asks.
“Why’re you,” you enunciate, implying he’s something, “On the apps? It’s hard to believe that someone like you would be single. Unless you have like, something deeply wrong with you, but you’ve been all green flags so far.”
Your hand falls back to his knee and he eyes it before sliding his own hand down his thigh to lace your fingers with his.
“You want the real story?” he asks, lifting your hand up of his knee to play with your fingers in both of his hands while he talks. His hands are warm and calloused on the fingertips, but the rest are soft. Lacing and unlacing, running his thumb up the lengths of your fingers, tracing your palm.
“The real story.”
“You gonna tell me why you’re on the apps after?”
“Sure,” you nod. You look gentle, at ease. He eases in, too.
“I got divorced in 2020,” he confesses. It feels like a weight off his chest to tell you, “Married my high school sweetheart, things were great for a long time, but y’know. People grow and – the pandemic was not kind to us.”
“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer softly.
“It’s okay,” he smiles tightly.
“I guess I was both surprised and not surprised at all when she broke up with me. Almost relieved, I guess – that I didn’t have to play the part of her husband anymore. Not that she was a bad wife or anything, she was great she just – I don’t know,” he rambles, “And I don’t know, I just threw myself into work and my friends after. Girls after shows. Was too scared to like – go on dates incase it ended up like my marriage and –”
He laughs, “My friends were tired of seeing me be so sad, I guess.”
“You have such a solid support system,” you comment, “You mention your friends, like, every other sentence.”
A beat.
“I like that,” you nod and smile. He can’t get over how you look when you do that.
“Why’re you on the apps?” he asks, your hand now cradled between the two of his, his fingers grazing your wrist.
“I’m six months out of a six year long relationship,” you let out a breath through your nose and drop your shoulders a little, “Figured it was time to get back out there – enter my slut era.”
“Oh yeah, you’re super slutty,” he teases, “That’s actually the first thing I thought when I saw you. ‘She’s in her slut era.’”
“God, fuck offfff,” you giggle again.
“But yeah, I ended it. I figure I should make that clear,” you say, “Just in case that’s like, a red flag for you. But I don’t know, we just weren’t growing in the same directions. Things felt done way before I left and I – I don’t know. I think I was just scared. I took some time for myself and now, here I am.”
“It’s okay that you ended your relationship, it’s not a red flag,” Eddie’s voice soothes you when he says it, “If you told me you like, cheated on him and then hit him with your car then maybe yeah, I’d be a little concerned. But you’re an adult, you just know what you want better this time around.”
“Yeah,” you agree. Your eyes meet in a silent confirmation. His eyes flick to your lips for a second time before tucking his lower lip between his teeth again.
BELLY FLOP!
“You wanna head out? It’s getting a little late,” he offers.
Your brows raise in surprise, “Uh, sure, yeah.”
“Not that I don’t like spending time with you,” he assures, letting his fingers linger over your hand while he stands up, not wanting to lose contact just yet, “Just don’t want to keep you out too late.”
“Oh yes!” you start with an old southern twang, “My daddy’ll be out there with his pistol if I don’t get home ‘fore sundown.”
“You’re funny,” he laughs, letting go over your hand to reach up and squeeze your cheeks affectionately. You both put on your jackets and head outside, both of you wincing in the cold of the winter air.
“I’d really like to do this again, if you want,” a shy blush reaches his cheeks, meeting the pink from the cold.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” you’re just as shy in your response, “This was fun. You’re fun.”
“Thank you,” he flushes deeper, trying to prolong the inevitable. What if he belly flops? What if it hurts? What if the kids make fun of him?
“I’d offer to drive you home but I’ve had a few,” he says, hand reaching out to fall on your shoulder, “I feel good to drive but like, god forbid anything happens so – I’m happy to get you a car or pay for it for you.”
“That’s really sweet, thanks. Let me just um,” you pull out your phone to get in Uber with a speed that impresses him, “It’s really not that pricey, I’m close-ish by.”
“Still,” he says, “Just wanna be a gentleman y’know?”
“You’re very gentlemanly,” you flirt. Eddie stiffens, nervous, palms clammy.
“So um, I’ll see you soon?” he asks, opening his arms to give you a hug.
“Yeah, for sure,” you nod while you let him engulf you. His scent is warm and spicy, mixed with tobacco. You guess either still smokes, or he used to, but he never got up to have a cigarette in the hours you were at the bar. Eddie let’s go and cups your cheek briefly before giving you a gentle but winning smile. His warm brown eyes linger for the last time on your lips, now they’re slightly parted, waiting for him. His toes curl over the edge of the diving block, his knees are bent, arms up over his head...I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.
Swimming sucks.
“See ya.”
You quirk your brow for a moment, having expected much more than a hug, “Oh, um…see ya.”
He walks half way down the street to his car, heart thrumming in his chest in embarrassment. He should’ve just done it. FUCK. He should’ve just kissed you.
But what if it hurts? What if she leaves? What if you can’t make it to level three? What if they laugh at you?
He breathes heavily through his nose while tears threaten to well up in his eyes, staining his eyelashes. What if you don’t want to see him again after this? What if you change your mind?
He sighs audibly when he turns the key, phone auto connecting to the speakers. He turns up the radio while the car revs to life, pulling on his seatbelt and putting the wheels into gear. He leans back in his seat to pull out of his spot only to see you still waiting for the car outside of the bar.
Blink-182 blares through his speakers, hitting him straight in the chest.
‘Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over. Honest, let’s make,this night last forever. Forever. And ever. Let’s make this last forever.’
What if he did stay a little later after class? What if he got the chance to move on to level three?
Fuck it, he thinks. He turns off the ignition, shaking out the sounds of Jason Carver and the kids laughing, the sounds of their feet kicking in the water. Just Miss Tiffany and her whistle. He gets out of the car, determined. You’re still there, head whipping around to see him coming towards you while you bounce on the balls of your feet in the cold.
Arms up.
Knees bent.
“Ed? My car’s gonna be here in a sec–”
Whistle.
His hands reach out to your cold cheeks to pull you in before his full lips capture yours. His eyes flutter close at the contact, feeling your mouth react to his in time. Soft and needy, hydrated. You immediately know how to keep his pace while he separates and goes back in for more. Wet but not messy, passionate but not feverish. The smoothest dive he’d ever done in his life.
Your hands escape your pockets, fingers sliding behind his neck to pull him closer, sliding through the nape of his hair. He breaks away for a moment to delicately push your hair out of your face and really look at you before pressing his lips to yours again. You only stop when your Uber beeps from across the street.
“I wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles sheepishly.
“I wanted you to do that all night, too,” you giggle, breathless and blushing, “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he says, running a hand over his face, “Let me know when you get home, okay?”
“Okay,” you nod, hurrying across the street as the car honks again, “Bye!”
“I’ll put something together for next time!” he calls out. ‘Cause there will be a next time.
Tatianna is leaning over the back of the couch with her chin in her hands when Eddie opens the door. Her cheshire cat grin matches his own.
“So I didn’t hear from you all night,” she starts, her voice syrupy smooth, “So that means it must’ve went really well.”
Eddie sighs dreamily, kicking off his boots at the entryway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the door.
“Ooh, you like herrrr! I can tell! Look at your stupid face!” she laughs, pointing at him, bouncing on the cushions.
“Tati she’s…fuck,” he shakes his head in disbelief while he walks towards her, “There’s either two ways this could go.”
“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, “And those are?”
“I’m gonna marry her, or she’s gonna absolutely fuckin’ ruin my life.”
“I like her already,” Tati grins, “Sit down, tell me everything.”
“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec,” he grumbles, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He plops down onto the couch while Tati grabs two cups of tea from the kitchen that she made especially for the recap of his night. Gareth had been long asleep for an early morning at work tomorrow.
Eddie takes out his phone, two unread text alerts lingering on his home page. He opens them, smiling stupidly into the screen.
i’m home :) you’re a really good kisser by the way.
glad you made it home safe.
you are too. :) but you started off pretty kissable so, that’s probably why.
you’re making me blush over here, stop it.
Eddie lets out a soft chuckle through his nose, clicking out of your text conversation to go back to his home screen.
He deletes the apps.
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