Chapter 34
MATTHEW
“Turn that shit down,” I hollered at Stevie from the top of the stairs that led from my apartment into the bookstore.
I slammed the door shut behind me, then clomped the rest of the way down, glaring at her once I got to the bottom.
She was standing behind the counter, arms folded across her chest, hair pulled into two low ponytails, one black and the other magenta.
The ring in her eyebrow glinted as she raised it pointedly.
“Go back up those stairs and try again.”
“This is my store,” I growled.
“You’re right. It is. And it’s about to find itself with one less employee if you keep up that attitude.”
I huffed and stomped over to the sound system behind the counter and turned down the volume. “It’s not unreasonable to expect the music to be set at a more moderate volume.”
“It’s also not unreasonable to expect you to refrain from yelling at me.”
Her words had me deflating and the anger rushed out of me, leaving guilt in its wake. The shop didn’t open for another half hour and her music really hadn’t been that loud. I was being an asshole and it wasn’t her fault. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
Her expression softened, morphing into something that looked suspiciously like pity. I turned away, making myself busy reorganizing the sticker display that didn’t actually need reorganizing.
“You want to tell me what’s got you so upset?”
“Nope.”
“Where’s your friend? Lawrence, right?”
“You know his name is Louis. And he left yesterday.” I slid over to the bookmark stand and began rearranging them by color. She slid over so that she was standing directly opposite me on the other side.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. He went home.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
I paused with a stack of purple bookmarks in my hand. “I. Don’t. Know.”
She huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at me. “So he just up and left?”
I stared at her pointedly, then put the purple bookmarks back in their slot. I needed more coffee for this conversation. Not that I wanted to talk about this at all, but Stevie was relentless when she wanted to be.
I headed over to the coffee station we kept for customers and poured myself a cup. Stevie followed, hot on my heels. “Do you want to see him again?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“So you do want to see him again.”
I paused with the cup halfway to my lips. “What would that even look like? He lives in the city. I live here. He uses fancy soap and wears expensive clothes, and has a car he can turn on with his phone. And I . . . I’m me.”
“And what, exactly, is wrong with you?” She picked up a cup and began pouring the coffee.
She was being deliberately obtuse. I rolled my eyes and headed back toward the counter without answering. She followed, hot on my heels.
“I’m serious, Matthew. That man looked at you like you hung the moon. What makes you think the two of you couldn’t find a way to make it work?”
I stared at her like she’d sprouted horns. She stared at me right back, as if I was an idiot for not seeing what she so clearly could.
“Okay, forget for a second that he’s used to a certain lifestyle—one that’s entirely different than mine. He lives an hour away.”
She crossed her arms and shrugged. “So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so?’ It’s an hour.”
“Right. An hour. So you go into the city for the weekend or he comes out here. You take an afternoon off and surprise him for lunch. He takes the morning off so he can spend the night and drive back in the morning. This is doable, Matthew. You’re acting like he lives three states away.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. How had none of this occurred to me? I’d thought about asking him to stay but discarded the idea thinking it was ludicrous. I hadn’t considered the possibility of dating long distance. “Okay, but that’s not sustainable. We can’t go back and forth forever.”
“Maybe not. But you don’t have to make that decision today. All you’re doing is deciding if you’re willing to give it a shot. Is Louis worth the hassle? Or are you going to spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been?”
I didn’t even need to think about the answer. But what about Louis? What would he think? “What if Louis doesn’t think I’m worth it?”
I couldn’t bear to look at her, unwilling to see the pity I was sure was in her eyes. “Has he given you any reason to think that?”
I thought back over the past week. He’d accepted everything about me from the day I’d met him.
He hadn’t cared what I wore or that I had body hair or that I’d never been with a man.
He’d seemed genuinely interested in everything I’d had to say, even when I’d spoken about Ally.
And the way he’d looked at me . . . sometimes it was if he thought I’d hung the moon.
Stevie put a hand on my forearm. “Just give it some thought. You deserve happiness, Matthew.”
I brooded. I perseverated. I hemmed and hawed.
I stomped upstairs for lunch, hoping to clear my head.
And I stomped right back down feeling just as restless and agitated.
At four o’clock, Stevie sent me back upstairs for the rest of the day, insisting I was “annoying the shit out of her.” I didn’t doubt it. I was annoying the shit out of myself.
I thought about heading down to the studio to finish recording the audiobook. I’d fallen behind since I hadn’t been in the headspace to work on it last night. Unfortunately, I didn’t think tonight was going to be any better.
I fed Ernie early. I turned on the TV but couldn’t commit to watching anything. I opened the refrigerator only to shut it again without pulling anything out. I was hungry but didn’t have an appetite. I was exhausted but unable to nap. I was everything and nothing all at once.
I fucking missed him.
This apartment was too empty, too quiet without his constant chatter and bright laughter.
Just like my bed had been too empty last night.
I’d tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable without his warmth next to me.
And when I’d finally gotten up this morning, there’d been no one to share a shower or breakfast with.
And here I was, hours later, feeling just as lonely, just as empty without him.
Could I do it? Could I do what Stevie suggested and pursue a relationship with him? Could I manage the hassle of traveling into the city? Of late-night phone calls and conversations through text, only seeing each other on weekends and the odd day off?
Did I want to live with the alternative?
Just after five, I stomped back downstairs into the bookshop, hollering for Stevie as if the building was on fire.
“Oh my god, what are you yelling about?” She came out from the small storeroom at the back of the shop.
“I need your help.”