kyle invited you to a pub.

hadn’t seen that man in a near decade, family friend who was lost to circumstance and a lack of serendipity. you were excited to hear what he’d been up to, what he swamped while knee deep on deployments.

last minute he asks if his friend can join you.

wasn’t a problem. any friend of kyle’s is a friend of yours, he has an impeccable sense of character. but you sorely regret your lenience when you sit down and the stranger stares.

you’re tapping your nail against your glass, kyle’s soliloquy foggy as you vehemently avoid eye contact with the bloke who has yet to move his eyes from you.

sweat forms, mouth dries, breath stales. its like he’s glued you to the seat. fly in a trap. his eyes are darker than honey though. molasses, dirt that’s seemed to dig your grave while your still breathing and-

your name grounds you. you blink.

kyle’s eyes narrow. “you alright?”

“uh,” you steal a glance at the stranger. he’s still staring.

kyle follows your eyes and snorts through he nose. pats the man’s shoulder and your shocked he doesn’t bite.

“oh, don’t worry about simon,” he winks at you.

“means he likes you.”