Knots and Laces

So this is how it should have gone:

Matt, Hannah, each going to their own home after class. Chilling on their couch, then doing homework, texting each other sweet nothings. Hannah calling while Matt cooks to complain about the heat and laugh about their friends.

Now, Matt is only human, with his own set of sins and desires, so here is what Matt would have liked to happen: Him, cooking in his most comfortable attire. Hannah, her arms around him, hugging him from behind. Her lips on his back. Her voice in the air.

Carelessly, Emily pours some milk in her coffee. Rumors say that the girl likes her coffee like her soul, which is to say dark and bitter. That is a lie. Left to her own devices, cream and one sugar are her way to go.

She raises up an eyebrow. “So I’m guessing that’s not what happened?”

Matt only groans, his head in his hands. “...No.”

He’s too mortified to elaborate. That’s fine, though, because Emily never had any claims holding her back from completely roasting other people. She keeps her gaze on him, ponders for a second, and speaks up. “She paid you a surprise visit?”

It’s scary how much Emily an deduce from next to nothing. This woman is way too smart for her own good. “...Yes.”

She hums quietly. “And you’d made yourself... comfortable ?” The inflexion is all too subtle for other café customers to catch, but Matt does not miss the implications.

He nods, his hands still over his eyes. “......Yes.”

Slowly, Emily blows on her coffee. "Well, were you wearing the red one at least?"

"Of course I was wearing the red one! Who do you take me for?!" Matt replies, bringing a hand to his heart, as if he'd never been this offended in his entire life. "And I looked damn nice in it, by the way." he punctuates the statement with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

Emily chuckles. “Good. Otherwise I would have disowned you.” Not that Matt inherited anything physical to begin with, but being friend with Emily comes with a few benefits Matt would be sad to suddenly be deprived of. Such as underwear fashion advice. And blackmail on people he doesn’t like. And her general presence. "Well, then, your girlfriend can't appreciate nice things."

"I don't think my aesthetic was the problem, Em." If nothing else, though, that makes him laugh too. Emily is about the furthest thing away from sparkly sunshine optimism, but she has her ways to cheer people up. Dry humor and snippy sarcasm are skills she has mastered completely.

“Alright, alright.” her sharp nails -the ultimate proof that she is the one straight woman in the group, she’d joked once - tap on her cup in a train of clear clicks . “Move on from the dumbass embarrassment already and just tell me what happened. So, she caught you in red lingerie. Then what?”

Matt sighs. “And then she freaked.”

“And then I freaked.” Hannah sighs.

Without blinking an eye, Emily takes a long sip out of her cup, gaze staring straight through her. It’s a little known fact, only shared among her closest friends, that Emily doesn’t actually prefer her coffee raw. But here is a thing people seem to forget: Emily can, and will drink this unholy viscous thing milliliters of water away from being pure powdered coffee beans if she feels the need to set her balls on the table.

And boy, does she sets them today. She slams them so heavily they would shake the table if they weren’t metaphorical.

This is, hands-down, the most terrifying thing Hannah has ever witnessed.

Power Move.

“Huh.” That’s the only word Emily speaks out loud, but it is far from the only thing she says. Her tone, her attitude, that quirked eyebrow crowning her steel stare, her pursed lips, all convey a contempt much more profound and disdainful than any human language could ever wish to translate. So what? And I care because?

“Do you think he’s gay?”

Emily’s hands still.

Usually, the first thing flirty guys ask upon meeting Emily is if anything bad happened recently. There’s something about the way she carries herself, about the way she expresses emotions, that makes her constantly look like someone pissed on her bag. That is to say, looking slightly irritated and bitchy is her default face; and, what people come to learn when they get to know Emily better, being slightly irritated and bitchy is also her default state of being .

Now, contrary to popular belief, Emily can and does both feel and emulate a wide spectrum of nuances in the “irritated and bitchy” category.

Well. She can feel and emulate other feelings too, Hannah has witnessed firsthand (with no small amount of surprises). But it takes a lot to get her to show it. Emily is one hell of a poker player.

Hannah is far from the closest person to Emily in their friend group, so she can’t read her as easily as say, Beth or Sam. There are still some light changes in Emily’s general attitude she can pick up, though.

Brows knitting closer, tongue clicking. Hannah wonders what is it supposed to translate. Anger? Annoyance?

“Wow. You know, I owe Josh an apology. I’ve always been under the impression that he was the dumbest Washington, but you got yourself a shovel and dug a grave deeper than the pit of stupidity he spends his everyday life in.”

Oh okay that answers it then.

Beth would have answered something witty and snippy, you could have just said no or there are less mouthful ways to insult people you know . It takes a few seconds for Hannah to answer though, because Emily might has well have slapped her in the face with that comment and tone. Emily is nothing if not rough and rash, but Hannah still didn’t expect anything so… violent.

“...Excuse you?” she says dumbly.

Emily waves a hand dismissively. “No, nothing, please, do carry on. It’s common knowledge wearing lingerie if you’re a man makes you gay, obviously. The same way all us pants-wearing ladies are lesbians by default. The entirety of Scotland’s kilt-wearing population is gay too! And how could I forget dear ol’ Christopher, who wore a bra until last april. Obviously also a gay guy. Never shown any interest in a woman in his entire life.”

“Oh, shut it already.” Hannah is fully aware most people see her as a little childish at best. This doesn’t make her a pushover in any way. She’s not as good at showing her teeth as Emily, who built her whole reputation around it- and, most likely, never will. That doesn’t mean Hannah can’t growl when pushed too far. If nothing else, Emily’s fiery tongue makes it easier for her to burn back. “It’s not the same thing.”

Emily doesn’t look impressed. “Oh, my bad. Please, do enlighten me.” her words curl in mock-respect, sweet and dripping like honey around hot coal. “How is that any different?”

She’s dead-set in challenging Hannah, it seems. Fine by her. She won’t back down. Even if Emily is pretty intimidating with that steel gaze of hers. “In order: pants aren’t underwear, the Scots wear those to hide more knives on their bodies, and Chris had tits until last april.” Hannah huffs and crosses her arms. And they were making fun of her for picking literature classes. Suck it, Emily. “Nothing comparable to a man wearing… those.”

“Uh huh.” It’s quite amazing, really, how Emily can make you feel stupid in a five-minutes long tirade or a single inarticulated noise. Truly, a jack of all trades. “While true and valid points, that still doesn’t explain to me why a guy has to be gay to be fashionable.”

Hannah narrows her eyes. Oh, she sees. It’s going to be one of Those Conversations, isn’t it. One of those moments Hannah will remember late at night, and wonder which deity has to be thanked for the fact that Emily has yet to be decked in the face. “I would hardly call a skimpy outfit ‘fashionable’.”

“What, you didn’t think he looked good? Red’s his color though.” Emily takes a long sip out of this cursed thing she calls coffee. Judging. “There’s your problem then. Matt’s not gay, you just need your glasses changed into something that lets you admire proper beauty.” and she sounds just so condescending and smug and so obviously thinking you’re stupid, you’re worthless, you’re so far beneath me you’re not even worth getting mad at .

“That’s not the point!!” Hannah slams her fist on the table in anger- well, makes a show out of it anyway. She doesn’t actually put strength behind her blow, she’s too afraid to break something. But oh, she is angry . “You’re telling me, my linebacker jock boyfriend likes to hang around his house in a red thong for no reasons , and you don’t find the slightest thing wrong about that?!”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Had they been anywhere else, Sam might have shrugged, or made a face, or patted his back. Maybe she actually does and slash or attempt those, but as it is, running makes noticing either of those things difficult, by virtue of petty things such as ‘not being able to see the other’s face’ or ‘having them hands and arms busy balancing the body’. Sam knows this, so whatever she does is accompanied by a simple answer out loud “Nah.”

That’s what Matt likes about Sam- and running, in general. She’s straightforward. No need for a hundred words when one would do the trick (hello, Emily.) She answers things first and then elaborates.

“Thanks.” He says, grateful. “I’m just…” Matt is no writer, unlike Ashley, and no wordsmith, unlike Emily or Mike (or Jessica actually, when she feels like putting in the effort.) Translating his feelings into words isn’t something easy for him. “I don’t know dude, I just kind of feel like a freak, you know?”

Sam hums in agreement, an audible nod of sorts. “Yeah.”

Of course she does. Lesbian. And a butchy one at that.

“Gender roles suck.” Matt cannot sigh, because he needs to control his breathing as he runs, so he settles for a tired drawn-out noise to convey the idea. “Also social expectations and people in general.”

Sam snorts, and when Matt glance at her he can see her lips curling up into a smile. “They sure do. They don’t know when to shut it and let people enjoy themselves. Do you have any idea how much crap I hear when I tell folks I’m a vegetarian?” He hears her take a deep breath, and then her voice suddenly goes deep and cartoony. “No fUn aLlOwEd lAdS, iF yOu dOn’t eAt mEat yOu wIll bE dEclAred heRetiC.”

This makes him laugh. Loudly. “You- you should tell them you’re a va-vaginatarian instead.” Okay, laughing while running? Bad idea. Do not recommend. “Sorry g-guys, I only eat one kind of m-meat and it’s my girlfriend’s pussy.”

Besides him, he hears Sam inhales. And inhales. And inhales.

“ Matt !” Her voice is a squeal at the crossroad of embarrassment and offense. Oh boy did he do it? Did he make Sam speechless?

She punches his shoulder (a little rough but still playful, so Matt knows she's not actually hurt) and he bursts out laughing.

“Matt, oh my god. Oh my god .” he should keep his eyes on the road, but he’s already laughing so much he has to significantly slow down, might as well look at her face.

Holy shit, she’s blushing. She’s actually blushing. Sam, stonewall Sam, who takes all and any of Josh’s teasing and throw it back with equal power, is blushing. Her eyes are wide as saucers, her mouth is gaping open, her hands keep roaming over her face in an attempt to hide- anything , it seems.

“I- you- I can’t believe - Matt -” she stutters, seemingly unsure where to start to yell at him.

He broke Sam. He actually broke Sam.

Matt grins so wide it hurts. “You are very welcome.”

“ Terrible is what you are.” Sam huffs loudly. Ah, she’s recovering. Good. “This was the absolute worst pun I've ever heard. The worst .”

Progressively, Matt comes to a stop. Laughing is all good and fun, but it’s slowly strangling his lungs, and he can use a break anyway. “ You are very welcome. ” He repeats, grinning.

Sam stops next to him, and bends over to rest her palms to her knees. She’s still red, but at least she’s breathing as well as someone who just ran a couple miles would be.

Silently, Matt passes her a water bottle. She drinks from it gratefully.

“... You know, you’re a good guy, Matt.” she says.

He blinks. Well that, um. Kinda came out of nowhere. “Oh, uh. Thank you?”

“I mean it.” she passes him back the water. “Like, you know I’m only into girls, but if I had to pick a dude, gun to my head? You’d be that guy.”

Matt wants to make a joke about how out of their whole crew, Josh is basically her brother in law, Chris is still firmly in the committed-to-pining square and Mike (as attractive as he is, though Matt would never say it to his face) is kind of an asshole, so there isn’t much competition. But he gets the feeling Sam is only building up for something more important, so he stays silent.

“My point is,” she taps his shoulder, “Hannah will get over it, and I will help her if she needs me to,” she smiles “because she’s so lucky to have you as her boyfriend and she would be an idiot not to realize it.”

“I can’t believe how unlucky I am with boyfriends.” Hannah groans, slumping over the table. “I just want a normal boyfriend with whom I can do normal couple stuff and have a happy normal life with, is that too much to ask?”

Sam blinks rapidly and raises an eyebrow. “Define normal?”

Hannah props her head up and shoots her a glare. “You know, maybe I should call my dad, see if he can get you a job as an actress, since you decided to play obfuscating stupidity today.” Which, okay, is quite rude and not something one should say to their best friend, but Hannah just spent a full hour in a contest of passive-aggressiveness (well, closer to aggressive-aggressiveness toward the end) with Emily. She is not in the mood.

“I meant,” Hannah sits up with a huff “normal as in the first thing that comes to your mind when you think ‘relationship’. Normal as in we hold hands and cuddles in front of movies and have normal boring vanilla sex.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Normal as in my boyfriend does typically boy stuff, or some light feminine stuff if he really wants to, just. Just my boyfriend keeping his privates in the appropriate set of underwears. That’s the normal I meant.”

Hannah has read a lot (and she means, a lot ) of young adult novels where the characters looked at each other lovingly for a few minutes. Sam only stares at her for a few seconds, but it is still one of the most awkward things Hannah has ever experienced. It… might be harder to picture the romance of the scene next time she reads her book.

“You…” Sam speaks slowly, like one would explains a particularly difficult concept to a child. “ do realize I’m a lesbian, right? Not exactly the poster girl for regular society-approved relationships.” she folds her hands. “Besides, I don’t even fulfil the normal vanilla sex requirement. I’m probably not the person you want to go to if you want validation.”

Ew . Ew ew ew e W .

Hannah squeezes her eyes shut suddenly. “Sam, you’re dating my sister . That is way too much information .” God , that’s an idea she’ll never be able to bleach off her brain, will she?

And Sam is grinning , the little shit.

“I’m just saying .” Sam’s tone is serious, but her lips are still curling into a smile. Hannah’s just saying, people who can’t keep a straight face after saying some awful awful things have no place lecturing others. “Gender roles? Kinda suck. And not in the fun way. You’re not being fair to Matt by forcing them on him.”

...hm. “That’s… fair.” Hannah concedes. “I just… I wish I knew why he did that, you know? Cuz, guys especially like to fit in gender roles.” Mike comes to her mind. When it comes to masculinity and fratboy culture, he’s pretty much the reference. “To actively defy them when you’re a guy brings so many problems, it has to mean something, otherwise you wouldn’t go through the trouble, right?”

“I mean, he likes you in lingerie, and last I heard there weren’t any deeper meaning to that.” Sam sighs, propping her elbows on the table to rest her chin on her closed fists. “I don’t know, Hannah, maybe he just thinks he looks good! Maybe he likes the feeling of it! I’m not the person to ask if you want to know what goes through Matt’s head, your boyfriend is.”

Hannah shifts uncomfortably. “That’s… true. But I can hardly come to him like hey, what’s up with the underwear, now that I’ve reacted so strongly, can I?”

“Why not?” Sam quirks up an eyebrow. “Contrary to what many straight people believe, it is that simple. Communication goes a long way.”  Her right hand move to rest on Hannah’s shoulder, equal part reassurance and firm quiet get your shit together, your actions your consequences. She gives her a light squeeze and smiles. “Nothing can happen to make the situation worse than it is already. Just go knock at his door and see what happens.”

Hannah is about the last person Matt expects to see when he opens the door. Mostly because she’s had the key to his apartment for the better part of the year now. But then again, swinging in without so much of a knock is exactly what got them in this situation in the first place.

“Hey.” Her smile might be one of the most painfully awkward things Matt has ever witnessed.

Not that he has any place to talk. He feels pretty awkward himself. “...Hey.”

There is a pregnant pause.

Five seconds pass.

Ten.

This is. Uncomfortable.

Hannah shuffles her feet, looking down. “Can, uh. Can I come in?”

“Erm. Sure?” He doesn’t mean to make it sound like a question, but the why are you here subtext is pretty clear. Still, Matt moves asides, and Hannah steps in apartment.

“Can, erm. Can I offer you anything to drink?”

If nothing else he is fully clothed right now, which is more than what he can say about the last time Hannah has been in his apartment.

“Uh, just water is fine.” She moves to sit on a chair, stiff as a board.

“So uhm…” Hannah opens her mouth, closes it, taps her index fingers together. She’s still not looking at him in the eyes. “I’ve been thinking.”

The sound of clattering glasses fill the silence as Matt reaches for one. “...Really?” he’s glad filling the glass gives him something to do, so he doesn’t have to stand quietly on top of the elephant in the room.

Hannah nods. “I’ve been going around. Asking people. Stuff like that.”

Well… that is mildly upsetting. Matt isn’t ashamed of his, fashion tastes (for lack of better word), but that doesn’t mean he wants his entire group of friend to learn about it. He likes his private life private, thank you very much.

If nothing else he hopes she didn’t go to the sensitive people about this. He wants Ashley to still be able to look at him in the eye next time they run into each other.

“So, uhm, yeah, I guess I just wanted to ask you outright…” Hannah continues, a finger playing with a lock of hair in that adorable way she only does when she’s nervous. “Why? Do you, uh.” She makes a vague gesture at his everything. “W-wear. Lingerie at home.”

… Well.

Of all scenarios Matt had envisioned (including but not limited to: Hannah breaking up with him, Hannah pretending this has never happened, Hannah demanding that he burns his lingerie and never wear any again which would make him break up with her) never had he thought she would actually try to understand .

He just hopes he’ll be able to explain right. Matt is a jock from the depths of his bones, not a poet.

(He kinda wishes Jessica was here with him. Jessica was the most charismatic and persuasive person Matt knew, Mike included. And she had less bite than Emily. But then again, if Jessica were here, she would probably be a tad more aggressive than regular Jessica. The girl can be downright nasty to protect the people she genuinely likes.)

“...I just like it. It’s really just that deep.” He sets the glass of water next to Hannah, who proceeds to completely ignore it. “I look good in it. I like that. Not even so much in an turning on way. More like putting on a new pretty jeans way. You know?” Something softens in Hannah’s face, something Matt can’t quite identifies. He lets himself hope it’s understanding. “Plus I like the feeling of laces. Scratchy but good scratchy.”

There is more silence. It’s just as awkward.

When it becomes apparent that Mat isn’t going to elaborate any more, Hannah  takes a sip out of her glass and speaks up.

“Huh.”

Matt has. No idea if this is a good sign or a bad sign.

Dear fucking god above, the tension is so thick it feels like having your face pressed against a wall on all sides.

Five seconds. Seven seconds. Ten seconds.

Hannah averts his gaze.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Matt blurts out. Sue him, he’s a straightforward guy.

Hannah’s head immediately snaps up to him, her face equal part horrified and ashamed. “No no no no no! Absolutely not!” She gets up suddenly, her chair falling behind her, and waves her hands in front of her with alarm.

And just like that, it’s like a dam has been broken, because the uncomfortable silence is suddenly filled and filled and filled with a waterfall of hurried sentences. “Listen, Matt, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a shitty girlfriend, I just ran and I thought so many awful things of you and I didn’t even try to get you, and I just I was being so so so stupid and I know I hurt you and I had to have both Sam and Emily forcefully tear my head out of my ass on this one, really, I’m so sorry, I mean if you want to break up with me after this I understand but I want to make it work?”

And then her head hangs low again, as if awaiting for her execution. Matt stands stunned for a few seconds, processing her words with widening eyes.

“Hannah…” he starts. The woman immediately tenses up, as if bracing for impact.

Gently, Matt sets his hand under her chin and lifts her head up until their eyes meet.

“I want to be your boyfriend. And I want you to be my girlfriend. And I want us to make it work.” He smiles warmly. “Let’s try again?”

Slowly, a smile blooms on Hannah’s lips. It’s as beautiful and radiant as the Sun.

“Let’s try again.” she says, and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug.

So this is how it should have gone:

Matt, Hannah, each going to their own home after class. Chilling on their couch, then doing homework, texting each other sweet nothings. Hannah calling while Matt cooks to complain about the heat and laugh about their friends.

Now that didn’t happen. Not on that fateful day when Hannah caught him wearing underwear she was never meant to see, and not today as she lies naked under his covers.

An arm around her waist, her boyfriend quietly dozes off to sleep. Her incredibly nice, confident, sexy boyfriend.

Hannah wiggles in his embrace to press her back closer to his bare chest, and closes her eyes. Slowly, she falls asleep, lulled by the quiet breathing behind her.

Today was a good day.

Two sets of lingerie lay on the bedside table. Her own and Matt’s.