The bar they end up at is crowded - there’s definitely some kind of event going on, which explains why Hamil is here, she supposes - but Hamil and Lemuel have managed to snag a booth with some extra room, if they squeeze. Lucas hasn’t let go of her since they left the lecture, practically, so she doesn’t think he’ll mind the tight fit.

“God damn, Sarah,” Lemuel says when they walk up, her holding onto Lucas’s hand to not get lost in the crowd. “You look hot. Look at your little waist in that dress!”

“Thanks, Lemuel.” She’s been running a lot, so she figures she’s earned that compliment. She takes a step up to hoist herself into the tall booth and Lucas slides in beside her. His ears are a little red, too, but before she can ask him if something’s wrong, a waitress is on them. She orders a vodka and seltzer and Lucas gets a beer; by the time that’s through with, he’s already talking to Lemuel’s date, a good-looking guy who introduces himself as Porter, about the event they’d been at.

“Can’t believe you got him to go to a lecture.” Lemuel shakes his head. “The guy who used to skip history class.”

“Used to skip a lot of classes,” Hamil laughs. “Not just history!” He has a mischievous look on his face, but he kind of always does, so Sarah doesn’t know quite what to make of it. “I can see it, though. I’d go anywhere with you in that dress, Sarah.”

Lucas’s hand drops unexpectedly onto her lap just then, his palm flattening and then curling around her thigh just where the hem rides up past her knee. “So Hamil, how’s the opening going?” he asks loudly.

“Going great,” Hamil replies, his eyes flashing with more of that puckish glint from earlier. “Meeting a lot of interesting people.”

“That so?”

There’s an edge to the way Lucas is speaking that is confusing Sarah. She decides not to try to figure out what’s going on with him and Hamil and instead turns to talk to Porter. She finds out that he’s a consultant for an environmental waste management company and that he and Lemuel had met at a bar about a month prior. He’s friendly and has nice, kind eyes; Sarah decides that she likes him for Lemuel.

“What about you guys?” Porter asks, nodding his head toward her and Lucas. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Oh,” Sarah says, feeling heat rise in her cheeks and desperately wishing for it to go away. “I, we’re not a - Lucas is my roommate.”

Porter lifts an eyebrow just slightly. She could be wrong, but she thinks she sees his eyes flip briefly down to her lap, where from his angle, Lucas’s hand placement must be clear. “Oh, my mistake,” he says, but there’s a quirk to the corner of his lips as he takes a sip of his drink.

Oh no. Not another one of these types in her life - it’s the last thing a girl trying to get over a crush on her friend needs. Luckily, the song shifts, and she’s saved by Lemuel tugging on Porter’s arm. “Let’s go dance!”

Porter waves at her and follows Lemuel out of the booth. Hamil, who’d stepped aside to let them exit, slides back in. “So how’s marathon training going, Sarah?” he asks.

She groans. “Don’t remind me about that right now - I’ve got another 12 miles to do tomorrow.”

“It’s going good though, right?” Lucas interjects, looking down at Sarah for confirmation. “You seemed pretty happy with your pace yesterday.”

Sarah takes a long sip of her drink, relishing in the cool liquid, wishing for balance to come to her mind. “Yes,” she confirms, speaking quickly after realizing they were both waiting for her. “Yes, it’s going okay. I’m on track for where I want to be. I’d like to do a four-hour marathon, if I can, but I’ll be happy with around four and a half. Really anything under five.”

“I’m exhausted just thinking about it,” Hamil tells her with a shake of his head.

Lucas chuckles. “Every time she comes back to the apartment, I feel lazier and lazier.”

Sarah frowns and clucks her tongue. “Oh Lucas, come on. You work a really physical job. You’re in great shape.”

“My endurance is shot to hell, though.” He shrugs. “But oh well. Some of us are built for strength, not speed! And then some of us are built for neither. Right, Hamil?”

“Oh, that’s not what you were saying when I beat your ass outside of-”

“Piss off about that, we were literally kids, Hamil, let go of your one victory.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and swirls a melting cube of ice around her glass. “I’m sure you’re both Frank Dux now.”

That stalls both of them mid-argument. Hamil looks at Sarah, wide-eyed, then at Lucas. “Erm, was that a Bloodsport reference?” he asks, surprised.

She shrugs and sips her cocktail. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

Lucas lifts his hand from her leg so that he can take hers. “The perfect woman,” he marvels in a teasing tone, eyes twinkling as he gazes at her. “Marry me, Sarah.”

She giggles and tugs her hand out of his. “I don’t know, Lucas, can you do the splits like Jean-Claude van Damme?”

He slaps his hand on the table jovially. “I’ll learn!”

Hamil winces. “Sounds painful, I don’t know.”

“You saying I’m not worth it?” Sarah asks, laughing.

“You’re great, Sarah, but no way would my body do that,” Hamil declares, leaning back in the booth. He surveys them with amusement in his eyes. “And from what I know of him, neither would Lucas’s.”

“Little bit of yoga would do you both some good,” she suggests. “Get to where you can touch your toes.”

“Aw, that’s not fair,” Lucas complains. “I got long legs.”

Sarah snorts. “Such a victim complex,” she teases. “Short people have a lock on the height complaint thing, Lucas. That’s our thing. You don’t get to have the best view everywhere, the ability to reach anything you want, and get to complain about your height. It just doesn’t work that way.”

“Sure it does, Sarah.” He drapes his arm around her shoulders. “I got bad knees!”

“Same,” Hamil chimes in. They actually clink their beers together at that - weird thing to celebrate, Sarah figures, but to each their own.

They stay for a little while longer. Lucas has another beer, but Sarah switches to water. She’ll sleep in a little tomorrow, but she eventually needs to be able to get up early enough to do her run before it’s too hot. She zones out while Lucas and Hamil are talking about something sports-related that she’s got no interest in, and stifles a yawn. Just when she’d been proud of herself for hiding her tiredness so well, Lucas gets the bill.

“Oh Lucas, you don’t need to leave on my account,” Sarah protests. “I can get home just fine by myself if I’m tired.”

“Not letting you take the subway home alone at this hour, Sarah,” Lucas says, handing the waitress his credit card.

Sarah rolls his eyes. His protective streak has reared its head a few times lately; it’s sweet, and most of the time, but he’s being a little crazy. “Lucas, I take the subway at this hour all the time after work.”

“That’s different.”

She laughs. “What? How is it different?”

“Just is, Sarah.”

Sarah sighs and sits back, waiting for the waitress to return. She looks at Hamil, who just raises his palms to her as if to announce that he’s not going to take a side. “I think you’re being a little silly. I can get a cab, if it makes you feel better.”

“I’m not, and it doesn’t, but it don’t matter anyway. I’m tired too, Sarah.” The waitress returns with a receipt and Lucas’s visa. He signs it, then they make their goodnights with Hamil, Lemuel, and Porter, and head out through the crowd. Once they get to the street, Lucas moves to peer out at the traffic, hoping to hail a cab. Sarah watches, anxious.

She should drop it. She really, really should drop it. But she’s curious: he’s been a little off since they got here, between the brief tension with Hamil to the way his hand had held her leg, even to the way that he’d stiffened up when a friendly, seemingly harmless guy had approached their table and offered Sarah a drink (she’d declined, but it seemed to press whatever the thorn in Lucas’s side is a little deeper). She wants to know what’s going on.

So before he can raise a hand to hail a ride, Sarah reaches out and brushes her fingertips against his forearm. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Lucas turns halfway and looks at her, his blue eyes piercing. “I’m fine, Sarah. Just trying to get us home.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she says slowly. “You’re not usually like this.”

He frowns at her, turning fully toward her now. “Like what?”

Sarah sighs and waves her hands. “Like … this,” she emphasizes, gesturing to him. “Overprotective.”

Lucas’s eyebrows shoot up. “I shouldn’t be worried about you going home alone at night?”

“No, that’s - well, no! It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m a big girl, Lucas. I’ve done fine for myself on the train for a long time in this city.”

“Jesus Christ, Sarah,” Lucas swears, grabbing her wrist. He tugs her to the side, out of earshot of another couple who are standing nearby and giving them an odd look. “I swear to god, you’re blind to it. Totally blind to it.”

She is hopelessly confused. “What are you talking about?” He’s holding her wrist a little tightly; she tugs at it slightly and he drops it, looking briefly apologetic.

“Half the guys in that place were staring at you, Sarah,” Lucas tells her, his voice fierce in a way she hasn’t heard before. “Jesus, this dress isn’t even showing anything and you’re the best thing anyone’s laid eyes on. And you didn’t notice, probably, just like you didn’t notice the guy at your bar trying to look down your shirt or the others staring at your ass - and that’s just the night I was there! And - fuck,” he swears, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like such an idiot, because they all make me so mad, but I’m turning around and doing the same thing.”

He turns away from her and takes a few steps down the sidewalk. Sarah can hear him breathing slowly, in and out with audible sighs. She can see him raises a palm and run it over his face, sighing again.

“Lucas,” she tries, unsure of what to say. She doesn’t understand, still, what his outburst is about. She gets hit on with somewhat regular occasion when she’s at work, but it’s usually nothing obscene and certainly not cause for him to be concerned about her safety. She’d already made that clear to him weeks ago. “I don’t -”

Lucas cuts her off, but he doesn’t turn around. “Sorry, Sarah,” he says, his voice almost crumbling. “You’re right. I’m being a dick. I know you can take care of yourself.”

She walks toward him gingerly. He doesn’t move away when she’s right behind him, which she takes as a good sign. Sarah puts her hands on his back, flattening her palms to soothe his flinch at her touch. Then she slips her arms around his waist and hugs him like that, his back to her front, on the sidewalk.

After a few seconds Sarah feels Lucas’s hands cover hers. He lets out a long breath that sounds almost relieved. “Sarah?”

Her forehead is pressed against his shirt. His back is warm, bordering on damp; he must be hot. “Yes?”

“I really do want to go home anyway. I promise.”

Sarah squeezes him as best as she can. “Then get a cab, sugar.”