Chapter 17
My stomach does a somersault, like a thousand butterflies have decided to throw a dance party in there.
Matt's looking at me in a way that makes my knees weak – like I'm the only girl in the room, heck, the only girl in the world. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once. This spark between us, it's turning into a wildfire, and I'm not sure I want to put it out.
I'm drawn to him – his lips, his heart, those eyes that seem to see right through me. My brain's gone on vacation, leaving behind only the awareness of his gaze on me. Is this what it feels like to be utterly, completely captivated by someone?
“Come on,” he says, his hand reaching for mine. Our fingers intertwine, and I can't help the grin spreading across my face as he leads me through the crowd.
This feels like a dream - or maybe I've stepped into an alternate universe.
How else do you explain holding hands and feeling butterflies over the guy who was my enemy?
The boy I literally attacked in high school.
The man who, not too long ago, I wanted to throttle every time he walked into the Grind Stone.
If someone had told me this morning that I'd be here, feeling this way about Matthew Pearson of all people, I'd have laughed in their face. Yet here we are, and I'm struggling to wrap my head around it all.
When Matt glances back at me, our eyes lock for a moment. Then his expression changes as he looks over my shoulder. I turn to see what's caught his attention, and suddenly, my world tilts.
My knees give out, and I find myself on the ground before I even realize what's happening. For a split second, I'm scared, bracing for the familiar pain of hair being yanked or fists connecting with my back. But instead, I'm pushed, tripping over someone's foot and landing on my ass.
The party falls silent, everyone staring.
It's like I've been catapulted back in time, to when my brother would attack me from behind like the coward he was.
He'd push me down, grab my hair, and start swinging.
Right now, I'm just sitting here stunned, but my body remembers.
Every instinct screams at me to fight back, but I hold it in. This has to be an accident.
“Michelle, what the hell!” Matt's voice cuts through the silence. He's kneeling beside me in an instant, his eyes blazing with anger as he looks up at someone behind me.
I follow his gaze, and there she is. Michelle. I don't know her, but her face tells me everything I need to know. Jealous bitch.
"Are you okay?" Matt asks softly, helping me to my feet.
I stand, taking in Michelle's self-satisfied smirk. It's annoying to admit, but she's gorgeous. Even in the midst of this anger, I can't help but notice. Is this what they call pretty privilege? Because I'm not nearly as furious as I should be. Or maybe I've just grown up a bit.
I glance at Matt, noticing the fear in his eyes – fear of what I might do. But when I look back at Michelle, I realize I don't have it in me to retaliate. Her smug face is begging for a reality check, but I'm not going to be the one to give it to her.
As I study her, it's clear she's had one too many. Part of me, the part that remembers what it's like to be young and stupid and jealous, almost understands. After all, I'm dancing with Matthew Pearson. He must be her fuck boy who probably never danced with her.
That thought is enough to make me turn away.
I'm not the crazy bitch I once was. I’m not going to hit her back.
Sure, I engaged with Matt and played stupid pranks as a means to get back at him, but that's different. He can take it. This girl? Definitely won’t be able to handle anything I scoop for her.
I push past Matt and make my way out of the party, feeling everyone's eyes on me. I'm the outsider here, surrounded by strangers. What am I even doing here, dressed up like this, dancing with a guy I'm supposed to hate? And with zero alcohol in my system.
“Amber!” Matt calls out, his footsteps quick behind me.
I keep moving, my feet carrying me away from the chaos.
There's a lump in my throat that threatens to turn into a full-blown meltdown if I don't get out of here.
The last thing I need is to give these strangers a front-row seat to my vulnerability.
Right now, all I want is the calm of the night air.
“Amber, wait up,” Matt calls, his voice closer now. “Are you alright?”
Before I can answer, Jen comes bursting out of the house, Harvey, Crew, and a few others hot on her heels.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Jen asks, her eyes wide with concern.
I nod, inhaling. “Yeah, I'm fine.”
Matt falls into step beside me as I make my way to my car.
I mutter, not meeting his eyes. “Don't let me ruin your night.”
“I'm coming with you,” he says firmly, and I don't have the energy to argue.
We reach my car, and I slide into the driver's seat while Matt takes shotgun. I don't start the engine, instead, I just sit there, letting the cool night air wash over me and try to calm my racing heart.
My mind's going a million miles an hour, replaying the scene and imagining all the ways I could've handled it differently. But the truth is, I'm not that girl anymore. The one who lashed out at her brother or tackled Matthew Pearson down the stairs. I'm not some wild child looking for a fight.
“I'm sorry about her,” Matt says softly, his gaze fixed on the car in front of us.
I keep my eyes on the steering wheel, afraid of what I might see if I look at him.
He sighs, “She can’t take no for an answer.”
I bite my lip, curiosity getting the better of me. “So, you two hook up?”
He nods, looking uncomfortable. “A while ago, yeah.”
I nod, trying to process this new information.
“I'm sorry,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.
A tear escapes, sliding down my cheek as Matt's hand gently touches my thigh. I hadn't even realized I was crying. The memory of being shoved to the ground has my hands trembling. Matt reaches for them, and I let him.
It hits me then – how much I hate feeling powerless, feeling vulnerable.
My brother's abuse, always over the most trivial things, comes flooding back. I used to think it made me tough, but now I see it left me hurt. And hurt people, well, they tend to hurt people. I owe Matt the full truth about the day I attacked him. I’ve shoved the truth down deep where I don’t have to face it, but it’s fucked up what I did to Matt.
“Matt,” I whisper. “The day before I attacked you, my brother beat me up.”
“What?” he says, turning to face me fully.
I take a shaky breath. “Yeah. We grew up with parents who didn't really care what we did. My brother, he'd been beating me since we were kids. Never got in trouble for it. He'd actually stopped for a while, but then,” I swallow hard. “I told my mom about his drug dealing. He found out and he kicked my ass. We were older, so it was different. I had to take his hits. Nobody was home to stop him.” Now I’m crying. “It hurt. He fucked me up. And I was so mad… And then you said what you said, and I had so much anger. So much rage. I couldn’t…”
I let the tears fall down my face. Matt's grip on my hands tightens, a silent show of support.
I look into his eyes. “I shouldn’t have hit you, Matt.
I shouldn’t have tackled you down the stairs.
I’m lucky I didn’t seriously injure you because I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.
As much as we play stupid pranks on each other, I really am sorry for what I did.
And I kept hating you because I was embarrassed.
” I glance down at our hands. “Really fucking embarrassed about myself and my life. I can’t believe how far I let this go.
I swear it’s not who I am. It’s not who I want to be. ”
Matt's fingers intertwine with mine, his touch grounding me. We sit in silence as I try to stop my tears. He waits as I release his hold to wipe my tears.
I continue, “So, that's the whole story. It doesn't excuse any of my actions, and I’m still very ashamed. You don’t deserve this. I thought if I was a bitch, you would leave me alone, and all that pain and anger would end.”
“Hey,” he says softly, his free hand cupping my cheek. “It's okay, Amber.”
I shake my head at him, unable to believe his forgiveness. “It’s not okay,” I mutter.
“Listen to me,” he insists, his voice gentle but firm.
“I forgive you. I don't hold any of it against you. And this…” He brings my hand to his lips, sending shivers down my spine. “Tonight? I had fun dancing with you. I’m sorry Michelle ruined that. That’s something from my past ruining the present.
But I swear, it’s okay. Everything about our fight…
it’s in the past. You don't need to carry that guilt anymore.”
His lips brush against my hand, my wrist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My whole body feels electrified by his touch.
“Promise?” I exhale, hardly daring to hope. I watch as his lips gently kiss my arm, wondering what they’d feel like against mine.
He nods, his eyes serious. “I promise. And if I ever run into your brother—"
“I can handle myself,” I interrupt gently. “Believe me, he didn't get off scot-free.”
“You sure you don't want me to deal with him?” Matt asks, a protective edge to his voice.
I shake my head, meeting his gaze. No one has ever offered to protect me before.
“No, that chapter's closed. I'm an adult now, living on my own. He can't hurt me anymore.” I let out a soft laugh. “Though he always hated when I called him out on his crap. I don’t talk to him because of the drugs, but we’re okay. Water under the bridge. Classic sibling stuff.”
Matt's lips are so close to my skin, his breath sending tingles up my arm. I pull back slightly, changing the subject. “So, why weren't you at work yesterday?” I ask.
He sighs, leaning back in his seat. “My mom.”
“Oh,” I breathe out. “I thought maybe you'd quit.”
A smirk plays on his lips. “Quit?”
I shrug. “Got sick of me?”
He continues, “No way. Things were just starting to get interesting.”
I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks as I glance at him.
Silence falls over the car, but it's not uncomfortable. I'm hyper-aware of every little thing – his breathing, the warmth of his arm near mine, my heart pounding in my chest, the kisses left on my arm.
“You seem okay after what Michelle did…I mean, I know it brought up bad memories, but you didn’t push her back. Are you okay?” Matt asks, his eyes searching mine.
Maybe he's right to be concerned. I suppose most people would hit back after what just happened, but I've had plenty of practice picking myself up after being knocked down.
“People like Michelle need professional help.”
Matt laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. I barely meant it as a joke, but I’m glad he could find humor in it.
I glance at him with sarcasm seeping out of my voice. “She’s smoking hot, so I get why you’d sleep with her.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Not once you get to know her.”
I can't help but snicker at that.
“She, uh…” Matt starts, looking uncomfortable. “She recorded us hooking up and posted it online when I started dating someone else. It was a complete nightmare. She refused to take it down, and—"
“Whoa,” I interrupt, my eyes wide. “Matthew Pearson!”
“I know,” he groans, looking utterly dejected.
I shake my head, torn between amusement and disbelief. “I mean, I thought maybe you were a player, maybe a fuck boy, but this is next level. You let her record you? And she used it as revenge? What did your girlfriend do? Because I know exactly what I would've done.”
Matt chuckles, probably picturing me attacking her down a flight of stairs. “The video was actually made before I started dating Maddie. Michelle posted it after we got together.”
“Ah, so it was revenge,” I say, shaking my head. “She has a track record. That girl is a jealous one. She definitely needs some help.”
He nods, his expression turning somber. “Maddie thought I cheated on her. I hadn't, but she wouldn’t hear me out. She left me for Grey. Remember him?”
“Yeah, I remember Grey,” I say softly.
“She went straight to him. They're actually still together,” Matt says, his gaze dropping to his knees. I can see the hurt there, and I wonder which part pains him most – losing Maddie, Grey's betrayal, or the humiliation of the video.
He takes a deep breath. “I was a miserable dickhead for a while after that. Then one day, I stumbled into the Grind Stone on the right day at the right time. I was having a shit day, exhausted after hockey practice and I just wanted a sandwich. And there was a familiar face behind the counter.”
His eyes meet mine, a glimmer of mischief returning. “She was so annoyed that I pretended not to recognize her. But I was just fucking around, trying to avoid more drama. This girl was a handful back in high school. Then she wrote the word asshole on my bag, and I just knew.”
He grins at me. “She gave me hell, but I kept coming back. That perfect, angry face was exactly the distraction I needed from all the shit going on.”
I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “So, seeing me – that was your perfect distraction?”
“A good one,” he says, his voice low. “A really good one.”
His words hang in the air between us.
“I wasn't sure you'd show up tonight,” he admits. “I kind of threw it out there, just to see if you'd bite. Now that we're friends.” His hand covers mine, and my heart does a somersault. I watch, mesmerized, as his fingers intertwine with mine. “I'm really glad you came.”
I can't help but smirk. “Well, Mr. Pearson, considering you inserted yourself into Michelle, and said woman just attacked your distraction – who you're apparently so happy came to the party – I'd say the circumstances are less than ideal. I mean, what else is that girl going to do to your perfect distraction?”
He smiles, his eyes fixed on our joined hands.
“Why am I your perfect distraction?” I ask.
Before he can answer, his phone rings. He pulls his hand away, fumbling for his pocket. He takes a look at the screen and says, “Sorry, it's Harv.” He answers it. “Hey, man, what's up?”
He glances at me, then says into the phone, “Okay, I'll be right there.”
Hanging up, he turns to me with an apologetic expression. “I have to go.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Can we finish this conversation later?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I'll see you at work.”
His grin widens. “Yeah, I'll see you.”