Matthew #2
Another nod. I like the way he listens. His entire focus is on me, and he’s actually listening, not just present. What does he think when he looks at me? It’s hard to tell; his face is a rock. After last night and today he must think some unflattering things.
“What happened in there… I…” The sentence doesn’t get finished because I have zero idea what I was even trying to say.
“Which part?”
“There are a lot of parts, but the kissing bit sticks in my mind.”
“Xavier will be glad to hear it.”
I swallow hard at that. What does he mean? Because he wants it to be memorable? “Are you all together?” My mouth clamps shut after that question. Not what I meant to ask. I mean, I want to know, I just wasn’t going to ask. What would I do with the answer?
“That entirely depends on your definition of together.”
“In a relationship. Um, having relations. Friends with benefits? Occasional friendly friends.” What does that even mean? Stop talking.
“Xavier and Hunter are complicated.”
Case in point on the complicated thing. It’s a weird word, and now my brain isn’t sure if I’m spelling it right in my head. “Complicated how? And where do you fit?” I’m seriously looking up how to spell that when I have a second alone.
“You’ll have to ask them.”
“Which question?”
“All of them. Do you want help with Augustus?”
That’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. I can take a hint. “No, I’ve got him, thanks.” He has the bag, and Augustus’ travel carrier isn’t that heavy.
I pause on the first step leading to the back door. “Just tell me, please. Am I getting in the middle of something? Did I step in it?”
“You are, and you did, but not in the way that you think.”
“Did he kiss me to get back at Hunter?” My stomach twists at the very thought of being used as a pawn like that.
“Xavier isn’t ever looking to punish Hunter for anything, nor does he use those kinds of teenage tactics. If he kissed you, he wanted to.” He crowds me, one hand on the wall beside the door. Even a step below me, he’s still taller. And he smells nice.
“He doesn’t know me.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s not a second-guessing kind of person, and he takes what he wants, when he wants it.
You’re the first person he’s taken an interest in since he and Hunter broke up, seven years ago.
Take that however you please.” He gestures for me to move ahead before I can even formulate a single thought about that.
What makes me special? I’m not special. He met me last night and under the strangest circumstances.
These kinds of things don’t happen to me.
Instant connections and people that look like this having any kind of interest in me.
“Seven years?” is what my brain latches onto.
Augustus is starting to get heavy, but also, seven years.
They don’t act like they haven’t been together for that long.
Not to mention the whole having sex thing while Hunter is on a date with me.
There are a lot of wires getting crossed here, and I’m just getting more confused.
Instead of answering, Miles uses a gloved hand on my shoulder to coax me to turn around and then nudges the small of my back.
Guess we’re done talking.
When I crack the door open, the sound of voices stops me from going in. Was that my name?
Hunter’s voice filters through. “Is this how you want to play your games?”
“What games are those, my dear?”
Miles is at my shoulder, and I brace myself for being forced to keep moving with another nudge, without being able to listen to the rest of the conversation. Except he stays where he is, a hand on the doorframe beside my head. Letting me listen?
“Leave him out of this.”
“I’m not the one that brought him into this. What did you think was going to happen?”
“I certainly wasn’t expecting you to kiss him,” Hunter says dryly. “Find someone else to manipulate.”
I feel like I’m eavesdropping on an extremely private conversation, but I can’t stop listening. Since they’re talking about me, that makes it at least a fraction less invasive, right?
“I’m not manipulating anyone.”
“Tell that to someone who’ll believe you. If you’re trying to use him as some way to get back at me, just stop. That isn’t fair to him.”
“The kiss had nothing to do with you, Hunter.” A deliberate pause. “Well, not completely. He’s very sweet, even by your standards. He’s completely enamoured of you; you could have a taste, too, if you wanted.”
Okay, it’s time for me to make an appearance before they embarrass me further. Which is obviously a mistake since I walk in at the most inopportune time.
“Should we share him, then?” Hunter is asking, with more of that dryness in his tone.
I freeze in the doorway, both of them turning to look at me.
Did I make a noise? Was it a bad noise? “That would—I would be yes.” That’s not what I meant to say.
The idea of it is of course a yes, but the reality seems like a bad idea, in that Hunter was being sarcastic, and they don’t really mean it, and I wish they would stop looking at me.
Beside me, Miles tips his head back with a knowing smirk that should be way less attractive than it is. I think it’s the hair. He’s very pretty. Him holding a gun on me last night somehow hasn’t detracted from that, which says more about me than I want to examine.
“Where should I put Augustus?” I blurt before anyone can respond. If we could forget any of this happened, that would be great. Amazing, even. “He’s getting heavy.”
“The coffee table, for now,” Hunter says. “Then we need to talk.”
The world’s worst sentence. Usually, people mean relationship-wise, but any instance doesn’t generally suggest that something good is about to come out. It’s like the Red Ring of Death on an Xbox. The beginning of the end.