The Bright Side

Chapter 3 - Part 3

SKY

There's live music at the cosy little pub we met up tonight, some singer-songwriter kind of stuff, unimpressive background music to the mindless chatter of mostly middle-aged men. There's not much going on and we find a free table close to the small stage. 

Mark returns from the bar with two pints and a Coke for me. It's a bit awkward; I don't know what to say, Tristan still seems to be on edge and Mark is being a prick sitting there downing his beer with no apparent interest in apologizing to Tristan. I'm racking my brains for something to say, for anything that could start a conversation, but my brain is like a vacuum right now. I tune in on the music, just to keep myself occupied so self-consciousness can't capture me completely.

Suddenly Tristan slams his fists down on the table so hard that the glasses jerk from surprise.

"No way!" he yells and pushes his chair back with such force that it falls over and knocks against the one behind him. He storms over to the door, straight towards the hulky skater from the schoolyard who has just entered.

"Uh-oh," Mark says. "That's Matt. Our 'friend'", he air-quotes.

Right, the guy who messed around with Tristan's girlfriend.

A lot of heads turn and the barkeeper is on the fence as Tristan's outstretched right hand knocks against Matt's chest and pushes him back. Well, it's really only Matt's shoulder that moves back a bit. He seems to be taken totally aback and holds out his hands defensively. Tristan pushes him towards the door, his anger blinding out the fact that he'd have no chance in a fight with Matt. He tries to reason with Tristan on his way out; his expression growing more and more angry.

Alright. I'll wait fifteen seconds and then go after them. I count them down in my head and desperately hope for Tristan to reappear through the door. Mark takes a sip from his beer and scans the room with a rather bored expression; I guess I can't count on him to back me up. My hands get all sweaty just at the thought of having to interfere, but I nevertheless get up and walk outside, my heartbeat pulsing in my throat. Matt is towering over Tristan on the sidewalk, but Tristan does not seem to care. He's standing so close to Matt, he's almost in his face.

"Calm down, Tris. I said I'm sorry. I don't see the fucking problem!" Matt still tries to argue with him.

"You don't see the fucking problem?" Tristan spits. He's got such a pissed off expression on his face, that he doesn't look like himself at all. "You touched my girlfriend. That's not how it's done."

"Only once. For fuck's sake, why are you making such a big deal of it?"

"Why am I... what?" Tristan shouts.

"I was drunk, otherwise I wouldn't have. I swear. I mean, she basically threw herself at me, how could I have stopped her?"

"You've got to be shitting me!" Tristan gestures wildly with his hands. I'll say. If anyone could fight off a girl in heat, it would be Matt, no matter how drunk he was.

"Come on, mate..."

"Oh, don't you 'mate' me, you fucking cunt," Tristan sneers.

Holy smokes, he's completely losing it. Maybe I should go back inside and check if his common sense is inside one of his jacket pockets. He clearly didn't take it outside with him.

"What did you just call me?" Matt pushes him a bit, making Tristan stumble backwards a few steps and I take the chance to step between them, holding Tristan back with my arms. Great, now I'm the one facing that angry, ripped guy.

"Sweet. You think I can't get past you?" he asks me.

Oh, boy. Why again did I come outside? I've never been in a fight before, let alone a fight against someone so much stronger than me.

"Come on, Tristan. Let's go back inside." I turn my head towards him.

"Don't you ever call me shit like that again," Matt threatens and I nod, the second before I'm aware that he wasn't even talking to me. Goodness, he's intimidating.

"Don't you ever come near me again!" Tristan pushes against me from behind, trying to move towards Matt. I manage to hold my ground, to hold him back even though I'm not that much taller than Tristan.

"Come on, mate. Back inside." I turn around and grab his shoulders. He's staring over my shoulder, still so desperately ready to fight Matt; it takes all of my strength to push him towards the door.

"You're making a fuss about nothing, Tris," Matt calls after us and I resist the urge to go back and take a swing at him myself for his attempt at trivialisation.

Instead, I increase my pressure on Tristan until we're inside the pub. The entryway walls are covered with adverts for upcoming concerts, racks laden with flyers and a heater on one side and Tristan leans his buttocks against it, suddenly completely limp.

I put one hand in his neck and force him to look at me.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I'm not making a fuss, am I?"

"No." I snort. The way Matt had tried to downplay what he's done would be hilarious if it wasn't so outrageous. "Absolutely not."

"Ok. Just wanted to make sure." He grabs my wrist and squeezes it and I let go of his neck, suddenly aware how close our faces are, my heart kicking just as hard as seconds before outside.

He straightens up and walks back towards our table, where Mark is sitting, tapping his foot in rhythm with the music.

We sit back down on either side of Mark, who seems to be completely relaxed – sure, I mean, he didn't just almost get into a fight. Also, his and Tristan's pints from earlier are drained and there are already two new ones sitting in front of him, his own halfway empty. Tristan grabs himself the full one and takes a deep breath.

Mark clinks glasses with him and Tristan's beer almost spills over because his hands are shaking so hard.

"Way to go," Mark says with an arrogant smile on his face.

As I said earlier, that guy is pissing me off.

If you liked this chapter, please don't forget to vote below or leave a comment. Thanks!