Chapter Text
“Told you she’d be upset,” Zeke sighs over the phone.
Porco clicks his tongue, rifling through a bowl of chips. “Yeah, she’s pissed . Is she ever not though?”
Porco’s right there with you.
What was your problem? He was doing you a solid. A favor you didn’t ask for, sure , but it was his way of helping.
He knew it was a flight-risk to set this up. An even bigger one to do it behind your back, feeding you speculations of Eren’s interest. Truth is, Eren never said anything.
Porco acted on a hunch, because he was honest when he suspected that Eren did have some interest in you. What Eren lacked in words, he made up for it in the way he looked at you, holding enough of his attention beyond the housewarming party.
Eyes talk. And Porco’s got a pulse, he knows when a guy likes a girl.
As for Zeke’s part in this, he was no better, lying to Eren and implying that you were interested in the same way.
In Porco’s defense, it was all done tastefully. Neither he nor Zeke said anything to make you look bad. The real effort was on him to get you to meet with Eren.
You’re a stubborn person, the worst that Porco’s ever known. You’re fucking Zeus when it comes to stubbornness. Once you gun down a suggestion, there was no changing your mind.
Begging? Nah. Porco’s too proud to do that.
Bribing? You’re too proud for that.
Blackmail? As much as you grate on his nerves, you’re still his close friend.
So, the only option was to lie. To plot. To catch you off-guard, and Porco would take the brunt of your wrath later.
“She has a point,” Zeke continues. “She already said she didn’t want to be set up. See it from her perspective.”
Porco’s eyes roll into orbit. “And then what? More bitching about how dating sucks?” Porco’s a team player, all for helping you out. But his approach meant tossing you in the water. No coddling allowed.
“Let’s sit her down and explain ourselves better,” Zeke suggests. “Before she kills you in your sleep.”
Porco crunches on a chip, reaching for the remote. “Too late, she took off earlier. Probably at her friend’s. I bet she’s over there going—” His voice rises in pitch, “‘my roommate did this, can you believe what an asshole he is? All men are trash ’.”
Hitch’s eyes widen as you finish your litany. “ What? He went behind your back?”
You scoff, still seething from the whole thing. “Asshole, am I right? And he had the nerve to defend himself.”
Hitch snorts, shaking her head. Well-fed from your harrowing argument with your roommate.
After the fact, you stormed out with no plans of returning for the night. In your car, you dialed Hitch, already enroute to her place, with the promise of ‘tea’ as your preamble.
As a glutton for all things gossip, it was enough for Hitch to greet you eagerly when you pulled up to her apartment complex. You were still walking through the lobby when you launched into what happened, not leaving a single detail out.
“Trash, trash, all men are trash,” you chant, sinking deeper into her couch.
Hitch steers the conversation in a different direction. “Enough about him. What about the guy you were set up with? What’s his name?”
You pause. Eren comes to mind again and you swear you still smell his cologne on you. “Eren.”
Hitch taps at her phone, pinning you with an expectant look. “Eren what?”
“Jaeger, I think?” You only know that he’s Zeke’s half-brother but you’re not sure by which parent. “Why?”
Hitch grins a very ‘Hitch-like’ grin. She scrolls her phone, and her brows rise. “Oh…found Eren Jaeger. Your future boyfriend.”
She holds out her phone, displaying a very tempting picture of Eren on his Instagram.
He’s sitting — or is he posing? It’s hard to tell with how casual, yet handsome he looks, caught on camera with that same brooding expression.
Taking Hitch’s phone, you get a better look, and you’re certain there’s a hint of a smile. So candid, you’re almost endeared by it.
“He’s a looker.” Hitch plucks her phone back, taking Eren away with her. “I mean Zeke’s not bad looking himself, but Eren? Ghost chili. Give Porco a medal, he did good.”
At the mention of Porco, you’re pricked once more. “He didn’t mind his business.”
“So? It’s a good thing he didn’t. Otherwise, you’d be missing out on this Eren guy. Did you at least have a good time with him?”
Again, not the point.
He’s still aloof as you remember him being, but you’re not the most approachable either. It was cordial, it was tame, and that was all.
“He’s cool,” you say with a shrug, throwing out that he asked for your number.
Hitch gasps, mouth dropping. “So, he’s interested! I wouldn’t hold that grudge against Porco, he might be a matchmaking expert.”
“Hitch, don’t take this where it’s not meant to go.”
“What’s wrong with getting excited?”
You’re not surprised to hear this from Hitch. You love the girl, but you can’t always relate to her views on romance and dating.
While you wanted to date, it was hard for anyone to really grab your attention. In the past, when someone did seem promising, it never worked out, and you were left exhausted from the wasted time.
By contrast, Hitch falls in love so easily. It’s something you find strange yet a part of you envies her for being a hopeless romantic. For never losing faith.
“It was one date.” You shake your head, refusing to reach for any semblance of excitement. “If I can even call it that.”
“He got your number, though. He wouldn’t ask if —”
Hitch’s phone chimes and her eyes light up, bringing her to her feet. “Oh, give me a second, Jean’s calling.” She doesn’t wait for you to respond, already flitting into her bedroom.
You roll your eyes. Mr. Wonderful …
In the meantime, you flip on Hitch’s TV, but channel surfing doesn’t hold your attention for long. So, you check your phone.
There’s a missed call from Porco that you flat out ignore. “Night asshole.” You swipe the notification away.
Beneath it, is another — a text sent half an hour ago from an unknown number.
[unknown - 11:06pm]:
Hey, it's Eren. Thanks again for the ride
Well, you suppose he had a reason to get your number after all. To thank you. Even his texting style is indifferent. You reply anyway, keeping it brief.
[You - 11:36pm]:
No prob
You set your phone down, only for it to buzz atop the couch’s armrest.
[Eren - 11:37pm]:
My friend’s band is doing an open mic on Friday night. Want to come? I can pick you up.
You furrow your brows, confused.
It’s an innocuous invite. Casual and direct. Simple. Something feels off here.
What’s the catch? This smells like Porco’s work. Did he reach out to Eren for damage control? Or is Eren really asking to hang out?
You don’t know, but the image of him on Hitch’s phone presses into your mind. That ghost of a smile, the scent of his cologne…
You do enjoy live music, something you brought up earlier this evening. Clearly, he listened. Would it be so bad to meet up with him?
It doesn’t have to mean anything. And you doubt it will.
You’ll be damned if Porco knows about this.
[You - 11:42pm]:
What time on Friday?
Porco’s got a sixth sense.
Call it roommate intuition, but he suspects that something is up with you. He’s not sure, only aware of the inkling he feels Friday night.
On his way to the living room, he does a double take.
You’re standing before the bathroom mirror, touching up your make-up, dressed way too nice for a night on the couch. Heeled boots, a thin midi-dress that cinches around your torso, a few modest pieces of jewelry on…
Something tickles his nose. Are you wearing perfume?
Since Hitch is cuffed right now, Porco knows what’s up: you’re going on a date. He doesn’t need to guess to know with whom. As much as he knows he shouldn’t gloat, he’s one-hundred percent certain it’s with Eren.
Porco bites back a triumphant smirk, leaning against the bathroom’s doorframe. “Going out, huh?”
The lip gloss in your hand goes still just before it touches your lips, your eyes narrowing into an icy stare that could shatter the mirror.
“Well, you look good.” Porco soldiers through, pleased that his plan is working. Because you’re still mad at him, he has to be strategic when talking to you.
He tried initially when you came back to the apartment the other night. Although he thought you were being dramatic, Porco resolved to try Zeke’s approach and see it your way. But all that got him was a cutting glare and your door slammed in his face.
So, Porco left you be, letting you throw your silent tantrum about the apartment. He wasn’t going to stop you, instead he’ll wait for you to get over yourself.
Except after seeing you now getting ready for a night out— the first time in months, Porco’s curiosity broke no contact.
Pressing a hand against the doorframe, Porco looks at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Hanging with Hitch? She got a night off from being girlfriend?”
You say nothing, finishing up your makeup like Porco’s nothing but a fly on the wall. Afterwards, you slip past him down the hall that Porco bristles from the cold shoulder.
He observes you anyway, ego beaming. He knows you too well. When you’re silent, it’s because you don’t want to give Porco the satisfaction of doing something right.
You throw on your jacket and grab your keys, with the first words to Porco in days. “I’ll be back later.”
He follows you to the entryway, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sure, won’t wait up.”
You throw him an irritated look as you step out the door.
Porco waves, calling out into the hall, playing the charade. “Have fun with Hitch! ”
Downstairs, your mind blanks.
Eren’s outside the apartment’s gate. You had assured him you were headed down already, so you don’t understand why he’s not waiting in his car.
You step out, crossing over to pull the gate open. “Why are you standing here?”
Eren raises a brow, and you bite your tongue, needing to remember to parse your words better.
“Waiting for you,” he says, eyes raking up your form, though that could be your imagination. “You ready?”
You trail after him with caution, tossing a look over your shoulder to where your apartment’s windows are. The blinds are drawn in the living room, not a glimpse of Porco anywhere near the window.
You hurry after Eren anyway, slowing down only when he opens the passenger door to a black sedan. Nothing fancy. Nothing outdated, either. Simple guy.
Inside it’s roomier, accommodating Eren’s height. It’s got a modern radio, and what looks like his work lanyard, dangling from the mirror. It’s also polished, not a trace of debris, receipts, or coffee cups strewn about. And the smell— citrus, sweet and clean. It eases some of your nervous energy.
He rummages for something in the center console, offering you a wrapped Jolly Rancher.
You want to laugh. Perplexed by the gesture, you still take it, watching him pull out another and use his teeth to unwrap it with dexterous ease.
He starts the car, and your neighborhood blurs past.
You twist the Jolly Rancher free from the wrapper, letting it disappear behind your lips. “You got a sweet tooth.”
Eren makes a noise crossed between humor and acknowledgement, you’re not sure. “I guess,” he mumbles over the candy. He slurps on it, and you grow a little warm.
You bite down on your Jolly Rancher, letting the cherry flavor soak into your tastebuds, a much-needed distraction for this car journey.
You lose count, the number of times you sneak peeks at him behind the wheel.
The open mic is at a speakeasy. Finding it was simple enough thanks to Eren’s lead. You were confused at first when he parked in a darkened part of the city, a few blocks away from the busier streets.
You followed as he cut through an ominous back alley. Eren made sure to never drift too far ahead, keeping pace and lingering close to your side while navigating the block with purpose.
You and Eren bypass the cover charge after Eren informs the bouncer that a ‘Connie Springer’ invited him.
Inside, it’s small and intimate, your exact preference.
Another band just wrapped up a song when Eren finds a table on the sidelines, close enough to see the stage and private enough that it’s not claustrophobic.
He’s yet to have a seat. “I’ll get us drinks.”
You reach into your purse as you tell him, “Whiskey sour.” Eren’s already gone by the time you pull out cash.
Your brows furrow together, trying to scope him out before he’s gone too far to the bar. But it’s useless with the dim lighting and crowd of patrons gathered there.
Left alone, you wait for his return as the next band sets up on stage. You wonder if this is Eren’s friend’s band up next, watching them switch out instruments.
This place reminds you a lot of the venue you worked at during college. Spending your breaks from the box office, sneaking away to catch the performances or witness the set-up.
While you don’t play any instruments (and are tone-deaf, according to Porco), there’s something about watching a live performance that gives you a thrill. To be in the moment, surrounded by others in the name of art. It’s not an average everyday experience, though you came close with that job.
You crane your head again for any signs of Eren. You think you spot him at the bar, finally ordering with a bartender.
Is this a date?
It’s been so long since your last date, you feel out of practice, skeptical to label this as such. But what else would this be?
Eren picked you up at the front gate . Offered you candy on the drive. Not something you’ve experienced with a date before, but it was a polite gesture. Maybe it was meant to make you feel comfortable.
Which worked, because the rest of the journey, you opened up to conversation, even if it was superficial. He wasn’t as talkative, but you knew he was listening to everything you said.
And here you are at a hidden speakeasy, about to listen to some music whilst waiting for him to bring a cocktail that he’s paying for.
You’re an adult, it shouldn’t be hard to decipher this. Yet, considering how Porco and Zeke enabled this originally, calling it a date would only give them the satisfaction.
Eren glides past others shuffling back to their tables with two Whiskey Sours. You would have expected a Negroni like the night with Zeke and Pieck.
As he sits, he holds his glass out and you understand, tapping yours against his drink as thanks, before taking a sip.
The cocktail is the right amount of sweet, but it’s the whiskey that goes down so smooth and familiar—
“What label?” you blurt out. Your tastebuds already know the answer.
Finishing a sip, Eren leans closer. “ Pyxis .”
Your favorite. He remembered that? It was one, fleeting mention back at Tybur Pub, yet he remembered.
Unless…you brush it off as a coincidence, shifting the topic.
“Your friend that’s in a band, what’s he play?”
“Connie does vocals mostly. But he can play drums and piano.”
“Do you play anything?”
“Guitar, sometimes. Picked it up during quarantine as a hobby.”
You puff out a laugh. “That’s a good use of that time. I considered picking up an instrument too, but never committed.”
Eren shrugs. “You can always learn.”
“You’re not wrong. Then I can play it sometimes too.” You don’t know where the cheeky response came from. It flowed out so naturally, along with the smile you sent him, it feels right even after you said it.
And Eren takes your banter in stride, amused as he steals another sip.
Maybe you do want this to be a date.
“I can play a few songs. Still rusty, but when I’m in the mood, I practice.”
You make a noncommittal sound, envisioning him with a guitar on his lap, strumming the strings to his liking. Then your eyes fall to his fingers, grasped onto his cocktail, and in an instant your ears warm up.
“What do you normally get up to in your free time?” Eren sets the drink back down.
Your ears blaze deeper, self-conscious as you admit, “Not a lot lately.”
There was a time that you were more social, more active in interests. Whether with Hitch or with Porco, or even alone, it was easy for you to fill up your time. Drinks, concerts, dating…eventually lost their thrill and now you spend your days off at the apartment. Like Eren, if you’re in the mood, you’ll do something, but the mood has come less and less these days.
“It’s a boring answer, I know,” you say.
Eren shrugs. “It happens, sometimes life gets a little dull.” You nod before you could say anything, as Eren adds, “But then you find a reason to be out again.”
He nudges your elbow with his, and you give him a wary look.
His amusement curls the corner of his mouth, he gestures his gaze ahead.
A new band has taken the stage. A guy around yours and Eren’s age snatches up the mic. “Welcome, welcome in, stoked to see a packed house tonight. Appreciate you all spending your Friday to listen to the talents here…”
He carries on with humored charisma that stirs the speakeasy with so much hype, you remember why you’re there in the first place.
“Is that your friend?” you guess, eyeing the man warm up the audience.
Eren leans over without looking away from the stage. “That’s Connie and his band. They put on a good show, you’ll like them.” He meets your eyes briefly, imprisoning you with green.
Feeling heat rush to your face, you toss your stare back at the stage, reveling in the shift in atmosphere as Connie introduces his band’s first song.
It’s something familiar being part of a crowd, watching a live performance. It’s also something new with a different companion to share it with.
Two more musicians followed after Connie’s band before an intermission. Eren rises to his feet, you lift a brow.
He jerks his head to the side. “Come with me.”
Your brows furrow together, hesitating. “But what about the table?”
“It’ll be here,” he says simply.
“But…” you hedge, getting up anyway.
Eren reaches for something on the table. A stainless-steel plaque, reading ‘RESERVED’.
You must have been blind to miss it this whole time, but with that reassurance, you follow him.
He leads the way to the back where the emergency exit door is left ajar. Outside, you hear faint chatter, nostrils met with a mixture of hot dogs and cigarettes.
“Hey, Eren.” A familiar voice approaches.
Connie greets his friend with an enthused high-five.
Eren returns the greeting with a nod before turning to you. He introduces you to Connie and you take that moment to praise him for the performance.
“Appreciate it,” Connie hums, and his bandmates appear behind him. “This is Onyankopon and Reiner.”
“What’d you think of the show?” Onyankopon, the bassist, asks.
“Slayed, duh,” Connie supplies.
Reiner, the drummer, plants a hand on Eren’s shoulder. “Our number one fan showed up as always. This time with a guest.”
You tilt your head, but before anyone could say anything else, Connie chimes in again.
“What was your favorite song?” he asks you, too eager to get your review.
You cut Eren a look, and he encourages you to take the lead.
You spend the rest of intermission chatting. You, Eren, Connie, and his bandmates, casually exchanging stories about music and favorite venues. At some point, Connie manages to snag free hot dogs from the stand outside.
The interactions are a breath of fresh air. Eren stays by your side, never leaving you alone with anyone, smoothly inviting your take on the shifting topics. The shared energy feels natural between you two, it’s almost daunting when you mentally step back from the conversations.
There’s still a mystery to him you can’t fully read, along with your hang-ups about whether this outing is an actual date.
You don’t dwell on those thoughts for too long, however, because Eren takes reins again to lead you back to the table inside.
A different band plays their second song when your phone buzzes on the table.
[Porco – 11:28pm]:
Let me know if you need a ride later
You huff a sigh, debating whether you should reply.
Eren leans over, arm brushing yours. “Everything good?”
You slide your phone back into your purse. “Yeah, just my roommate.”
He turns to you, voice nearly drowned out by the music. “You still mad at him?”
Yes . But that’s not important. You shake your head. “It’s nothing.”
The final show ended a little past midnight, and you both decided to leave while everyone else clambered the bar in time for last call. Between the live performances, the drinks, getting to meet Eren’s friend, this outing was the most fun you’ve had in a while. It reminded you a lot of your time working at the box office in Lago.
That rush of endorphins after a live show resurfaced on your way back to Eren’s car, lingering up until he brought you back to your place.
The car’s engine shuts off, rousing you from your high into a state of hesitation.
You hear the click of Eren’s seatbelt and whirl around, grasping his arm. “You don’t have to get out.”
Surprise flickers along his features before he says, “Um…sure. Is everything okay?”
You hedge. From inside the car, you can’t see your apartment’s window.
“What’s up?” Eren says, restoring your attention. His brows knit together, briefly looking out your window. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge you.”
You figure the truth is best. “I don’t want Porco to see. Just want him out of my business right now.”
It’s a vague explanation, but you had yet to broach asking Eren about his involvement with the set up between you two.
If he was involved or wrangled in like you that is. After tonight, you doubt he was involved like Porco and Zeke were, but you’re not ready to have that talk yet.
Eren leans back, lips pressing together like he wants to say something.
“Okay,” he says after a beat.
You squeeze his forearm, suddenly awkward. “It was fun. Thanks.”
He nods, smiling faintly. “Yeah, I’ll let you know if there’s another show happening.”
You let go in favor of opening the car door. “Sounds good. Good night.”
“Night,” you catch him saying before you shut the door.
Your eyes flit up to your apartment’s window the closer you get to the front. The curtains are open, light spilling from the inside.
You scurry to the front, creating enough distance between you and Eren’s car.
Back in your apartment, you hear the TV playing. You try to hurry down the hall, but narrowly bump into Porco as he rounds the corner from the kitchen with a bag of pretzels.
“Whoa.” He clicks his tongue at first. “Oh hey. What’d you and Hitch get up to?”
You grit your teeth, not bothering to cast him a look. “Nothing.”
“She gave you a ride?”
“Mhm. Going to bed now,” comes your response, walking past.
However, you miss the humored snort from Porco as you slip into your bedroom.
Half of Saturday is gone when you wake from your nap. An hour—maybe more—dissolved into sunset.
Your weekends are becoming too routine like this. A week of work, and you spend your days off doing next to nothing that you can never grasp how time has passed.
Stepping out of your room, it’s quiet. Porco’s not home.
Although you’re sluggish, it’s only a matter of time before you get a second wind and will be up all night. You take advantage of the empty apartment for now, rummaging through the fridge to make a sandwich when you hear a buzz on granite.
Your forgotten phone lights up with a new message on the countertop.
[Hitch – 6:18pm]:
What’re you doing tonight?
You glance at the sliced cheese you were about to nibble on, typing out a response.
[You – 6:19pm]:
Nothing. What’s up?
[Hitch – 6:21pm]:
Wanna go out? 😁
You give it two seconds of thought.
Not really. After spending the whole day at the apartment, the idea of leaving now or later sounds like a chore. Last minute too, on a Saturday? Nah.
[Hitch – 6:23pm]:
Girls’ night. My treat! ☺️
A yawn breaks into a groan. Porco’s right, you really don’t like going out. A night out drinking used to be fun (when you were younger), but not anymore. You don’t get how Hitch still gets a thrill out of it.
[Hitch – 6:25pm]:
I miss you! It’s been a minute since we’ve been out together.
Well, yeah since she’s been linked to Jean at any given chance. And the last time you did meet up with her for a night out, Jean tagged along midway. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut as you hesitate to come out.
[You – 6:28pm]:
I don’t know…I’m good staying in.
[Hitch – 6:29pm]:
Pleeaaaaaseeee? 🙏
You breathe out a sigh, willpower bent so easily. You text Hitch that you’ll come out for girls’ night. Her enthusiasm is swift, flooded with heart emojis. When you both devise a plan of where to meet, you set your phone down.
As you get ready, you can’t help fantasizing other ways to spend your Saturday night. With someone else in mind.
You shrug it off as a passing thought.
Hitch waves you down when you arrive at the train’s platform.
You’re both dressed and ready. Smokey eyes, glossed lips, wearing outfits guaranteed to burn some mileage in the city.
Hitch links her arm with yours as the train pulls to a stop. “Finally, out of hibernation. No changing your mind now.”
She laughs, dragging you inside. You both hurry to snatch up seats while the rest of the train car fills with commuters. The doors slide shut and the train jerks to life, dragging itself away from the suburban neighborhoods.
Hitch turns from the window to you. “Okay, so I’m in a dilemma.”
The night has yet to start, but something scratches at the back of your skull with sharp nails. “Oh?”
Hitch nods quickly, pulling her phone out. “Jean texted me earlier to see if I was busy. I told him I’d be out with you.”
Displeasure has you mincing your words. “Uh-huh…”
Not again.
“He asked if he could meet us. He’ll bring a friend.”
You fight the prick in your nerves. Is that supposed to make things better? So, you’re not a third-wheel? You wonder if Jean’s friend is also getting roped into this out of guilt.
Hitch continues, words rolling out a mile a minute. “Is that okay? I haven’t said anything yet. If not — totally fine, I can tell him, if he wants to see me, it’ll have to be at 2am tonight.”
Does Jean have a gold-plated dick or something? Is he loaded? You don’t get it.
Okay, he’s tall. He’s not ugly. He likes Hitch enough to want to see her all the time.
You don’t hate him, but the guy could respect boundaries, such as not interrupting girls’ night.
Then again, Hitch could also do the same to set those boundaries. You understand the honeymoon phase…
Or maybe you don’t because it’s been so long since you’ve been excited about dating anyone.
You feel backed into a corner. If you say no, Hitch might be bummed for the rest of the night. Although, saying yes means you’ll just be around for décor. It’s a lose-lose.
But you’re already on the train to downtown, and you don’t want to be a buzzkill. Even though, your fun’s already been slashed.
You do your best to stay neutral, taking another one for the team. “Sure, if he can find his own way.”
Hitch squeals at your side, giving your arm an appreciative squeeze. She types away at her phone, and you’re already dreading the second you reach your destination.
Should’ve stayed home.
You swirl the straw in your cocktail, minding the spill of beer along the tabletop. Nothing around you was a worthy distraction.
The bar is flooded with people, several drinks in their system, and rowdy for more.
Lingering on the sidelines, you take a small sip, unable to decipher what spirits are mixed in this. Your only guess is moonshine because it tastes foul.
Music blares from the speakers, almost as loud as the crowd, grating on your every nerve, while Hitch and Jean cozy up with their own shitty cocktails nearby.
You’re not sure where Jean’s friend went, nor do you care (Marcus? Marco? You can’t recall his name). It was a brief introduction before he got lost in the sea of people, eventually chatting up a woman, and that was the last you saw of him.
Smart move, you should have snuck off too.
You swallow your resentment, checking your phone. It’s already past 1am, last call nothing, but a sweet, distant memory ago.
You check your messages to see nothing new. You know Porco’s out too, spending it with Zeke. You almost stash your phone away, before glimpsing at the message thread between you and Eren.
Briefly you reread the last message from the other day, curious to know how he’s spending his Saturday night. You’re sure it’s better than being third-wheel.
The entirety of ‘girls’ night’, you’re mostly ignored, from one overpriced bar to the next before settling here while Hitch and Jean were lost in their own world.
To their credit, they tried to include you in conversation. Hitch made good on her promise, treating you to every drink while Jean made small talk so that it wasn’t obvious you were third-wheeling. But it was never long before they were wrapped up in each other’s attention that the world around them ceased to exist.
And that’s how it’s been for the last hour. You had no interest engaging with anyone here, so you became the wallflower, waiting for the night to end.
It’s heaven-sent when the lights finally come on and the crowd groans.
You, Hitch, and Jean file out of the bar, onto the sidewalk.
What a waste of a night. Shitty bars, shitty service, shittier drinks.
This is the last time you play third-wheel. You look at Hitch as she’s talking with Jean, waiting for her to hurry it up so you two can catch an Uber back home.
Neither pay you any mind. They hardly seem to remember you’re even there, standing close by as you watch them ogle each other. Any closer, you’ll get singed from the warm sexual tension brewing between them.
“Are you going back to your place tonight?” Jean asks Hitch.
Hitch flashes him a coy smile. “Do you want me to go elsewhere?”
You groan inwardly. You’re neither drunk nor sober enough to deal with any of this. You just want to go home.
“Maybe…I want you to come back to mine.” Jean shrugs playfully, then from the corners of his eyes, cuts you a look.
Ouch .
It may have been sly, but you get the picture. You skirt away, let them have their moment and when Hitch’s ready to say she’ll stay with him, you’ll find your own way home.
The streets are littered with passersby and patrons exiting the bars along the block. A small crowd forms at the nearby taco truck, so you hang around a parking meter to get some space, while you devise an exit strategy.
The train doesn’t run this late. You could give Porco a ring to pick you up. But you still hate him. So, you choose to suffer along with your pride and expect to pay an overpriced fare to get home.
You hear someone calling your name then, chipping away at the noise outside.
You look up, surprised to find Eren, stepping out of the neighboring bar.
He nods as he approaches. “Hey, thought it was you that I saw. What’re you doing by yourself?”
You could ask him the same thing, only for Connie to appear in a flash to bid Eren a good night.
“I’m not alone.” You gesture to Hitch and Jean, both crossing the sidewalk to catch up to you.
Hitch takes a moment to appraise Eren before giving you a subtle smirk. ‘That him?’ she mouths.
Playing it off, you introduce everyone until Hitch addresses you again.
“I’m going to stay with Jean tonight.”
Eren’s gaze shifts to you, a slight frown forming.
Although not a shocker, you’re still irked. Regardless, you saw this coming and act calm. “Well, I’ll grab an Uber.” You tap at your phone.
“Do you want us to wait with you?” Jean offers, a mixture of gratitude and guilt playing on his features. “That way, you’re not alone—”
“No, I’ll give her a ride.”
You and the others turn to Eren in surprise, at the gesture and at the edge in his voice. He’s standing at your side, and you’re oblivious to when he inched closer.
Shaking your head, you say, “I’m good. I’ll take the Uber.”
Eren frowns again. “I don’t mind driving you.”
Hitch chimes in. “Yeah, Eren doesn’t mind driving you. She’ll be glad to have a safe ride back. Plus, it’s free.” She turns to you with a wink.
Eren and Jean’s eyes land on you. Under their attention, you give in.
“Great!” Hitch ushers you to Eren, you almost stumble forward. “Text me when you’re home, okay?”
She takes off with Jean, arms linked together, blurring into the crowded streets.
You feel the light pressure of something on your arm, looking up to meet Eren’s eyes.
He clears his throat, letting go of your arm, only to slide it along the middle of your back. “You ready?”
You sag into the passenger’s seat as Eren drives out of the parking garage. It’s a welcomed relief to be off your feet and in a quiet, private space.
“Your friend, Hitch,” Eren begins, eyes scanning the road. “Really likes that Horseface.”
Horseface? As in…Jean?
The moniker is so random, delivered so bluntly that you burst into a fit of laughter.
Eren raises a brow, watching you from the corners of his eyes that bare a hint of humor. At his own wit or your amusement, you don’t know, lost in the full-bellied laughs.
“Did you really call him Horseface?”
Eren half-shrugs, one hand on the wheel, and the other resting on the center console. You don’t notice the brush of his fingers by your elbow. “He looks like a horse,” he says simply. “I’m guessing they’re dating?”
You wipe a tear, still grinning with amusement. “That’s her boyfriend. They’re in the honeymoon stage right now.”
Eren hums. “I can tell. They were eager to take off.”
You roll your eyes. “I saw it coming.”
“And leave you behind? That’s lame of them.”
That’s an understatement. Although you’re used to it at this point, it still stings to be dragged along only to be discarded at the end of the night.
You sigh. “I hear you. But people get stupid when they start dating. First, it comes for their heart, then it eats their brain. They don’t mean to, it just happens.”
“Being selfish, just happens?”
Another understatement.
“It is what it is,” comes your response. You should have stayed home, that was your mistake. You can’t control the actions of others, but after this incident, you’re less likely to come out for another Hitch-rendition of girls’ night.
At least Hitch got what she wanted and so did Jean.
You struggle to contain your humor, breathing out another laugh. “’Horseface…’”
Eren pulls up to the stoplight, brows raised as he looks over at you. “Wow. Didn’t expect that one to have staying power.”
You laugh again, getting the last of it out of your system. “It was funny.”
“Do you hate the guy or something?”
Shaking your head, you sigh again. “No. And I don’t think he looks like a horse either. It’s just my friend’s pattern. Every time she likes someone, it’s all about them, and she wants to be around them all the time.”
The car moves again at the change of light, the ride smooth in Eren’s control.
“That kind of sucks,” Eren says, nonchalant. “Why did you go out with them then?”
“It was supposed to be girls’ night, but Jean invited himself — or Hitch might have invited him, I don’t know.” You shrug, uninterested in the technicalities.
“Does it bother you?”
You sink into the seat, and it’s clear that Eren knows your answer. “I don’t want to be a cockblock. Because I’m single, saying something might come across as bitter.”
Eren gives you a curious look, turning the car onto another street. “So, you’d rather play third-wheel?”
“Not really.” Your voice drips with resentment.
None of it makes sense, and you’ve known that for a long time. But it’s true, you don’t want to be that friend — the disgruntled single friend. Even at the behest of your own time.
You sigh again. “I lied. I hate it.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve been third-wheel a few times. When Zeke and Pieck started dating, he’d invite her around a lot. And she’s cool. It was just weird at first because I felt out of place. Eventually, I let them do their thing while I did mine.”
“Did you ever bring it up to Zeke?”
“It never bothered me that much. It just made sense, I guess. But once he asked me if I wanted to tag along with them, I said I didn’t want to be third-wheel.”
“That was it?”
Eren turns to you with a shrug. “Tell her. It’s not being bitter. It’s being honest.”
Simple, rational, the end. Yet you don’t know why you struggle with that. As much as you cherish your friendship with Hitch, third-wheeling has gotten old, and it only made you more aware of how you lacked a partner.
A special someone that was excited to be around you.
Maybe you are bitter.
“You hungry?”
The sudden shift in topic catches you off guard, but you dismiss it when you feel a twist in your stomach.
“A little.”
Eren switches lanes, the car moving in a manner like the road was made of silk. “Same. Let’s grab a slice, I know a spot that stays open late.”
You fold your arms, peering out the window. “You’re the pilot.”
It’s another ten-minute drive in the city, taking you both to a small, corner pizza shop. Eren finds parking in the back alley and together you walk inside.
The warm smell of dough and garlic fill your senses and there’s another twist in your stomach from how hungry you really are.
A blond man behind the counter watches the mounted TV, enraptured in highlights of a soccer game.
Leading the way, you shuffle behind Eren as he gets the man’s attention.
“Oh, hey, Eren,” the man says. His brown eyes flash over to you, a telltale grin slowly spreading across his face. “You brought a friend. Who’s this?”
You introduce yourself, too hungry to read into the man’s curiosity.
He returns the greeting with a nod and his name — Niccolò.
“Pleasure to meet you and a pleasure to have a new customer.” Niccolò leans forward on the counter. “What’re you feeling tonight?”
You glance over at the fresh pies displayed behind the glass, mouth watering at every selection. “Something spicy.”
“That’s a good start,” Niccolò says and you’re oblivious to his humored expression. “ Eren loves spice. Always goes for ‘The Devil’.
You turn to Eren, and he merely shrugs. The lack of enthusiasm suggests otherwise. This man is an enigma.
After Niccolò rattles off the ingredients, you’re won over.
“Two slices? One whole pie? If you give me twenty minutes or so, I can have a fresh one made in the shape of a heart.” He winks at Eren.
“Two slices.” Eren doesn’t pay his friend any mind. “To go.”
Atop the hood of Eren’s car, you and he enjoy the pizza, sharing a single bottle of soda, under the night sky and surrounded by Liberio’s city lights.
‘The Devil’ option was a good choice. You devoured it until it was reduced to the crust, which Eren casually finished the rest for you.
“Did Connie’s band have another performance?”
Eren finishes his mouthful. “No, he wanted to grab drinks, that's all. He loves the touristy spots though, that’s why we ended up out there.”
You dust your hands off of any crumbs, turning to a noise on the sidewalk.
A couple walks by, laughing, hands laced together in a dramatic swing. The man reels his girlfriend in, shoving his tongue in her throat as she moans, hopping into his arms.
You look away with a grimace. “Get a hotel…” From the corners of your vision, Eren watches you with a curious look. Shaking your head, you sigh. “Ignore me.”
“In the car, you said people get stupid when they date.” He jerks his head to the couple as they disappear around the corner. “Like that?”
You shrug. “Kind of sums it up, sure. I don’t know them, but it always starts out the same, doesn’t it?”
“You never acted that way with a guy before?”
Oh, you have, and you cringe at those memories. Porco was right that you didn’t fall for charms easily, but you were no different when someone did catch your eye.
“Not anymore,” you say.
Eren nods, an attempt to hide the humor on his face. He fails, breathing out a laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing, just…”
You fold your arms together, raising your brows.
Eren watches you for a beat, not shielding his amusement. “Just forgot that you like to play hardball.”
You frown, not minding the edge in your tone. “What?”
However, Eren isn’t fazed by it. Instead, he chuckles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but Zeke—”
“Zeke?” you blurt out. “What did he say?” So, there was more that Eren knew. Your mind starts spinning.
Again, Eren remains calm. Something in his expression that you want to pick apart but can’t find anything insincere, so you hold your tongue.
“He said that you tend to scare guys off.”
You deflate. Great . So, that’s really how people describe you. Not that you enjoy live music, that you have great taste in whiskey, or that you’re a loyal friend.
Nope, it’s that you repel men. That’s the impression you leave people with.
“I scare guys off,” you echo, somewhat wounded. “Not always my intention. But I guess I can’t help it.”
Eren shrugs. “I think you intimidate them more than actually scare them. Not a lot of guys are used to trying so hard.”
Your frown deepens, face growing hot with defense. “So, I’m high-maintenance?”
Eren shakes his head, unaffected by your rising irritation. “No, you’re playing hardball.”
“I don’t get what you’re saying.” You pause, trying to make sense of it yourself. “I don’t play hard to get if that’s what you mean.”
“Kind of.” Eren shrugs. “More like you’re guarded.”
Now, you laugh, though it lacks humor. “Isn’t that everyone?” Or rather, shouldn’t that be everyone?
“To a degree. It’s hard to know if you like someone if they’re always hiding parts of themselves.”
“I’m just…not an open book."
“You don’t have to be, at least not right away."
“Yet I scare guys off.” Your eyes go adrift to the gravel. Sometimes you think if you were more like Hitch or Zeke, things would be easier. Past disappointments, however, render you incapable of opening up easily.
“I’m not scared,” Eren says.
You turn back to him with skepticism.
He snorts, smirk widening, drawing a flutter of butterflies in your chest. “You kind of look disappointed by that. Would you prefer if I was? I’m not good at pretending.”
His words make you think.
You suppose you had gotten comfortable with men being more cautious around you. In a way, maybe you preferred that. It made things easier. And it made things lonely. Sometimes you wonder what you really want.
Yet, Eren hasn’t shown any hints of disinterest so far. He may lack fanfare compared to Hitch’s suitors, but he seems genuine in getting to know you and spending time with you.
Still, you’re unable to lower your guard just yet. “What else did Zeke tell you?”
Eren takes a swig from the soda bottle. “That was it.”
You stare at him expecting more. “What about Porco?”
He blinks, his expression flickering to utter confusion. “Haven’t talked to him in a while.”
You’re relieved to hear that. Despite Porco’s friendship with Eren’s brother, he and Eren are more like acquaintances from what you’ve surmised.
Eren offers you the rest of the soda bottle, his ghost of a smile returning.
You smile back, whetting your lips as you bring the bottle to your mouth.
Eren’s words might be true. He might not be good at pretending, and so you consider lowering your guard a little.
On the way back, things were much lighter and carefree. The pizza gave you a little more energy that you had gotten over being third-wheel. You gave Eren a review on the pizza, and he hummed his own approval, sharing how he and Niccolò met through Connie.
By the time Eren’s car parks on your street and kills the engine, you continue to talk about your recent work week, how you crashed for a nap earlier in the afternoon.
While you lead the conversation, you can’t help noticing him watching you. Shifting in the seat, your thighs clench together as you talk.
Eren listens on, though his eyes slowly graze over the flesh of your thighs in a slow stroke that you clench tighter from the attention.
If he notices, he doesn’t point it out, only raking his gaze up to yours. “I’ll walk you up.”
Eren’s out of the car before you could protest, though you exit the car in time he comes around to your side.
A light breeze brushes past, wisping some of Eren’s cologne in the air, once again leaving you spellbound.
He tilts his head, rocking back on his heels. “You good?”
Absentmindedly, your fingers fumble inside your bag for your keys. A small feat is so difficult when Eren’s standing there, all six feet of him, the sculpted planes of his face; the dark hair, a little loose from the bun, still suits him perfectly. Unless it’s the late-night playing tricks on you, you notice a faint curl at the corner of his lips.
He walks you past the gate where you stop by the doors. The building’s quiet, much like the rest of the block. You haven’t checked the time, surmising that it must be past 3am. Yet not a single part of you is tired.
Rather, there’s a forlorn feeling pressing into your chest to keep the night going.
Keys in hand, you make no moves to enter. Instead, you lean against the glass doors.
“This was an upgrade from being third-wheel,” you say, and you mean it. An unexpected turn to your night. Nothing too eventful, but it was nice getting to talk to someone, to fill that space of being excluded.
Eren steps forward, tilting his head. “What part?”
“I don’t know, the whole thing?” you puff out a laugh. “My night sucked until after last call.”
Another step forward and another, you feel Eren’s weight slinking closer and the return of his cologne. “It’s a good thing we caught up with each other then. And a good thing you were third-wheel.”
You don’t know why you’ve yet to call it a night. You should head up to your apartment and pass out. But you don’t, watching Eren anchor his arm above your head.
“What would you have done if you didn’t see me?” you intone, dizzy and warm.
Eren looks thoughtful for a moment. “Would have gone home, straight to bed. You?”
Huh?
You don’t even register the question being asked, watching Eren as his green eyes graze over your face, before locking with your own stare.
Eren looms a hairsbreadth away, wearing that same faint smirk.
Your brows bump together, defenses creeping back up at the proximity, despite not wanting to shy away from him. “What’re you doing?”
He’s unfazed. “Looking at you.”
A chill falls down your spine. “Why?”
Eren tips your chin up, teeth flashing in an amused, yet tender smile. “You’re pretty, that’s why.”
Those words glide between your ears; silky, soft— seductive.
Not one for cheap flattery, your defenses lower anyway. It feels different coming from Eren.
You don’t move a single muscle, paralyzed with anticipation — a carnal need gradually awakening.
He veers even closer. The whisper of his lips are so close to your own.
Your phone buzzes then, shattering the moment.
You don’t need to check to know who it is. Of all people it has to be Porco, with the worst timing. First, he wants you to get laid, now he’s cockblocking.
Eren pushes away, lips pursed in amusement. You roll your eyes before answering your phone.
“What?”
“That’s a warm greeting,” Porco drawls in your ear. “Left Zeke’s a while ago. If you’re still out, need a ride?”
Eren rests against the wall, head tilted as he observes you. An effortless, casual act.
“No, I’m— ” Distracted as Eren grins, like something’s on his mind. Something that you wouldn’t mind picking apart. “I’m already home.”
“Fine. I’m at the Sevvie. Want anything?”
“Nope.”
A long pause drags on. In the phone, outside the complex’s doors, as a bold shift passes between you and Eren.
What’s on his mind?
After getting to know him a little more, Eren’s still a mystery to you. Slowly, unraveling, a seductive game you want to pursue.
“Alright,” Porco says after a moment. “Don’t get mad when I come back without your favorite snacks.”
“I won’t.” It’s the first time in a while that you speak to Porco without sounding like he’s the salt of the earth. But you have no qualms ending the call without warning. He’s still on your shit list.
Eren stands to his full height again, casting his shadow over you. “Guess you’re not gonna be alone.”
You shrug, pulse spiking when he draws even closer. “Not anymore.” Peering up at him, your senses bask in the smell of his cologne, making you dizzy. “Appreciate the ride.”
You’re not sure he’s heard you because you’re not sure you even said anything. Too enraptured with Eren leaning forward, you feel your heartbeat in your lips.
He accepts your thanks with a kiss.
His hand takes hold of the side of your face, and you kiss him back, sinking into his touch. You both move together, slowly, experimentally, a sample of each other’s taste.
A spark catches deep inside your chest, a crackle of excitement.
Eren pulls away in time to let that feeling linger. He grins wider and you’re mesmerized.
You really like the way he smiles. More so, you like that he smiles around you.
He backpedals, nodding at your phone. “Let your friend know you got home safe.”
You breathe a laugh, certain that Hitch is occupied with other things right now. “Right, I’ll text her.”
The gate squeaks as Eren pushes past it, giving you a pleased look. “Good night.”
When he’s walking down the sidewalk, you sigh, stomach fluttering with the realization that it might be game over for you.
Porco shuts the engine off. Blinking and blinking and blinking, unsure of what he’s seeing.
That’s Eren walking out of the gate. And the bastard is smirking as he enters his car.
Thankfully, he didn't notice Porco, parked two cars down the road. Eren’s taillights fire on before it disappears up the street.
So, that’s what you were up to tonight. You were out with Eren? Or…you had him over?
You she-devil. Reawakened from your slumber, and it was all thanks to Porco.
Whatever happened, it’s clear that Porco’s idea is panning out in your favor. Your reservations aside, you couldn’t resist giving Eren a chance it seems. As for Eren, if he’s coming around then he’s invested in this too.
It’s a plot twist Porco wasn’t expecting. Regardless, he’s doubly impressed. With you and with himself.
See, it wouldn’t kill you to accept Porco’s help. He knew he did something right. You may hate him now, but you’ll thank him later.
For now, he’s going to spare your ego and pretend like he saw nothing.
Gathering the bag of snacks, Porco gets out, muttering a mimicry of your voice. “’Stay out of my business, prick’.”