Matthew was going through somewhat of a midlife crisis as of late.

He’d just wrapped filming for the fourteenth season of his tv show, Criminal Minds, and he didn’t have anything else planned role-wise. He was ‘unemployed’, technically speaking.

In other words, he had nothing to do. He was bored out of his mind. And to make matters worse, he was painfully single.

He’d gone through a pretty rough breakup about six months prior, and hadn’t quite recovered. Not to say that he’s heartbroken. He wasn’t. That relationship had been toxic as hell, and ending it was a relief. But he’s in his late thirties, and dating at that age kinda sucks.

Before, he had filming to distract him from how chronically lonely he was. Now, he didn’t have that luxury. He went to sleep in an empty bed, and woke up alone.

So far, the day had been nothing special. Matthew went to his favorite cafe in Manhattan, grabbed some coffee, ran into some fans on the street. Took photos with them, had light conversations, signed a few autographs.

Matthew’s friends had been picking up on his depressing habits. How mundane his life seemed to be, the undeniable loneliness that he’d been experiencing. That’s why they invited him out to dinner.

The restaurant was one he’d never been to before. How, he wasn’t entirely sure. It was a vintage-style, family owned restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, decked out with plants and antique furniture.

Matthew and his friends, a group of 5 including himself — all from Film School, had been assigned a round table in the back corner of the restaurant.

So far, things were great. They were playing good music — 90s alt rock, his friends were having lighthearted and humorous conversation, and it wasn’t too crowded.

That was when he saw you.

You were about ten feet away from their table, serving an elderly couple their dessert. There was something about the smile on your face that was so damn appealing to him. It was endearing, the way your eyes lit up. The way your fringe kept falling in your face and your lower lip was caught between your teeth.

Fuck- you were literally his dream girl. From the denim miniskirt to the fitted blouse to the Mary Jane’s. The color of your hair, the way it framed your face. The contours of your jaw and cheekbones. How short you were, despite your shoes being platforms. Problem was, you were definitely at minimum ten years younger than him.

Matthew’s friends immediately took note of his staring. They didn’t hesitate to join in.

“Gube, you need a bib? You’re about to start drooling.” His friend Drake taunted, earning sporadic laughter from the table. Matthew laughed as well.

“How original…” Matthew retorted, allowing his eyes to trail up and down your figure as you walked past.

His friends were also murmuring obscenities. Things ranging from ‘hope she’s our waitress’ to ‘we should come here more often’.

Matthew’s gaze hovered on your legs, your ass in your skirt, the way your cleavage just barely spilled out of your shirt — result of the top few buttons being unclasped.

He couldn’t help himself from letting out a low, “Goddamn…”