Chapter 29
PENN
“Matthews, are you decent?” Fisher’s voice carries from outside our shared bathroom door.
With a sigh, I lean forward under the hot spray of the shower and touch my forehead to the cool marble wall.
We just got home from working out at our practice facility.
The heavy lifting session we did was just the thing to take my mind off that awkward breakfast I had with Hazel this morning, but now that we’re home again, I’d really like five minutes alone to think.
That’s apparently too much to ask from Fisher, though.
“Matthews?” he calls again, banging on the door.
“I’m in the shower,” I yell back, irritated.
“Yeah, duh. I figured. If I walk in right now, am I going to be greeted by the sight of your bare ass or is it going to be more of a full-frontal situation?”
“Go away,” I groan.
The bathroom door flies open, and through the cloud of steam around me, the hazy outline of Fisher taking shape as he waltzes in. “So I was thinking,” he begins as he walks up to the vanity.
“That we really need to get our bathroom lock fixed? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
“No, not that,” Fisher says with a shake of his head, squirting toothpaste on his electric toothbrush. “I was thinking we should go out tonight.”
“You couldn't have waited a couple of minutes until I was done in the damn shower to tell me that?” I love Fisher, I really do, but sharing a bathroom with him might be my least favorite thing about living in this loft, because the guy has zero concept of privacy.
“Don’t bullshit me, Matthews, you always take forever in the shower.”
“It’s where I do my thinking.” I wipe my palm on the door of the shower, smoothing away some condensation to make a little window for myself to glare at him through the glass. “Or at least, I try to when I’m not constantly being interrupted.”
“Well, think about this then,” Fisher says, totally undeterred by my annoyance. “You know that painting I bought for the living room?”
“No.”
“Of course you do. The incredible piece of the bay that I hung by the couch.”
“Oh yeah, the one you never shut up about.”
“Yes, that one! Well, there’s an art show tonight, and rumor has it they’re featuring a piece of that artist’s work for sale.”
“Nice,” I say neutrally. I have nothing against art—it’s pretty impressive that some people’s brains can create like that—but I don’t know or understand enough about it to get jazzed about it like Fisher.
“Nice? I don’t think you’re grasping what a big deal this is,” Fisher blabbers on. “This is Santi we're talking about.”
“I have no idea who we’re talking about.”
“Okay, so Santi is this artist who’s suddenly on everyone’s radar here. I randomly found that painting at a tiny gallery in Monterey a few months back and bought it on a whim without realizing this artist was like the Banksy of San Francisco.”
“Okay I know nothing about art, but isn’t Banksy a graffiti artist while this person paints stuff you can hang in your living room?” I ask as I lather myself up with body wash. My roommate’s obviously not going anywhere anytime soon, so might as well start washing myself.
“Yes, but like Banksy, nobody knows who this artist is. Their paintings just randomly pop up in galleries around the city from time to time, and they’ve become infamous, developing a name for themselves in trendy art circles.
I want to buy as much of their art as I can before they blow up worldwide. ”
“Sounds like a fun night,” I say, sounding about as salty as I currently feel.
I’ve been grumpy since my interaction with Chad-dick this morning, and I know I’m to blame for the heavy mood in the air after he left—I let Chadwick mess with my head, and it made me clam up.
When I get out of the shower, I’ll go down to her place and apologize for being a downer after she put so much effort into making a nice breakfast for us.
No matter where things might be between us, Hazel and I are friends, and I care about her. That will never change. Instead of moping about Hazel’s asshole ex, from now on I’m going to channel all my negative Chadwick energy into beating the Fire Cats on the ice next week.
“I’m getting tickets now,” Fisher mumbles with his toothbrush dangling between his lips and his phone in his hand. “You in?”
“Nah, I can’t.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be a buzzkill. It’ll be fun. Free drinks. Plus, Noah and Ally said they’d come, too.”
I laugh despite myself. “Did they actually say that, or did you beg them like you’re begging me right now?”
“The latter,” Fisher admits with a grin. “But they said yes, and that’s what matters.”
“Well, I’m glad they’re going with you because I honestly can’t go. I’m hanging out with Hazel tonight.”
Or at least, I’m going to try to.
“I’ll get her a ticket as well. She’ll love it,” Fisher says.
“You say that like you know her so well.”
“I barely know her at all,” my roommate responds. “But you talk about her more than I talk about my Santi painting, so I know enough about her by proxy to know she got all twitterpated over the mosaic steps when you took her.”
I sputter a laugh. “Nah, that was because of me, not the steps.”
“You also said she told you she wants to explore more of San Francisco and soak up the culture here. Art equals culture, my friend.”
He’s got me there.
I think about it for a moment. Hazel probably would enjoy attending an art show.
And it would be fun to go together. I like seeing the world through her eyes, how she drinks everything in and processes information.
Plus, she’s such a walking encyclopedia that she’s probably full of interesting facts about the art world.
“If I say I’ll ask her to come, will you leave me alone to shower?”
“I will.”
“Consider it done.”
“Yes!” Fisher pumps his fist in victory and finally exits the bathroom, leaving me in peace.
I’ve barely started shampooing my hair when there’s another knock on the bathroom door. What the hell?
“I swear, Fisher, if you interrupt my shower one more damn time, I’ll—” I trail off, because I have no idea how to end that sentence.
There’s a long pause before a soft voice that definitely doesn’t belong to my roommate says, “Penn?”
I blink in shock. “Hazel? What are you doing here?”
“Well, um, we need to talk…”
A few minutes later, I walk into my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist to find Hazel sitting on the end of my bed, tracing the stripes on the comforter with her fingertips.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“Hi.” She looks up, and while her expression is composed, her teeth are worrying her bottom lip, and my heart sinks further.
A girl has only said those four words to me—we need to talk—once before. It was when Tori told me she no longer wanted to be with a guy like me.
Not a great track record, but Hazel looks so nervous right now, it makes me think she’s here to break up with me too. Do fake couples even have real break ups? I have no idea.
“I wasn’t expecting company, do you want me to put some clothes on?” I joke in an attempt to lighten the tense mood in the air. “I’ll grab some sweats now and go get changed in the bathroom if you give me a sec.”
Hazel’s eyes move over my bare, damp chest before she releases her bottom lip and smiles. “Don’t feel like you have to get dressed on my account. The view’s pretty good right now.”
Her jest has my heart rate normalizing, the tightness in my chest loosening as I sink into the armchair in the corner of my room and grin at her. “I know it’s difficult, but just try to restrain yourself from looking up my towel, okay?”
“You don’t want me to objectify you?”
“Wait, you’re right. I changed my mind, look all you want.”
We both start laughing, and my shoulders relax. Because no matter what, Hazel and I are still friends. I’m glad to have her in my life, in whatever capacity.
Our eyes catch as we laugh. “I’m sorry I was a dick earlier,” I say at the exact same time as she blurts out, “This isn’t fake for me anymore.”
We stare at each other for a loaded moment before she blinks. “You weren’t a dick. You were quiet, though. Not your usual self, and I was worried.”
My mouth falls open. “Wait, what did you just say?”
“I said you were quiet, and weren’t—”
“No, I mean before that,” I interrupt, still staring at her.
Hazel’s cheeks flush red, and she dips her head. “I said this isn’t fake for me anymore.”
I swallow, hardly daring to believe what I’m hearing. “What do you mean by that?” I ask in a low voice, my mind spinning.
“Look, I know we said no feelings, but somewhere along the way, I caught feelings for you, Penn. I’ve tried to fight them—Lord knows I have—but they’re real, and I’m sorry if that makes things weird,” Hazel babbles, barely stopping to take a breath.
She wrings her hands but then sets her chin in determination before she continues, “I know this wasn’t part of our deal or anything we agreed on, but I realized today that I had to be honest with you, and with myself, or I’d regret it.
So there it is. I like you, Penn. I like spending time with you, I like kissing you, and I get that you’re not looking for a girlfriend, and you might not feel the same way, so—”
“I like you too, Hazel,” I cut her off, jumping to my feet.
She stands. “You do?”
I stride forward, probably looking like a moron clutching my towel at my hip, but I can’t bring myself to care. When I come to a stop right in front of her, I look down at her beautiful face. “How could anyone not like you, Hazel? You’re incredible.”
Hazel’s eyes get big, and her chin wobbles for a moment before she grimaces with a laugh. “Don’t you dare make me cry for the third time in one day, Penn Matthews.”
“I wouldn't dream of it.” I smile, my heart full as I cup my hand around her jaw. “How about I kiss you instead?”
She smiles wide before rising up on her tiptoes.
I stare into her green eyes, using my hand to angle her face just right before leaning in and pressing my mouth to hers.
Her warm, soft lips against my own creates a bewildering shock of sensations…
my rough stubble against her smooth skin, her soft sweater brushing my torso, her sweet scent dancing with the fragrance of my shower soap… nothing has ever felt more right.
“So what does this mean?” Hazel asks when we finally pull back from each other. “If I like you, and you like me.”
“I don’t know, exactly.” I clear my throat.
“We’re still getting to know each other in so many ways.
You’ve just come out of a serious relationship, things have been difficult with your family, and you have a ton of work commitments.
I also have a crazy schedule, and I don’t have the first clue about how to juggle work with an adult relationship.
But what I do know is that I’m in no way ready for this to be over between us. ”
Hazel’s smile is everything. “Same.”
“So why don’t we just keep…doing what we’re doing? Scrap our agreement and the end date and keep enjoying being together and seeing each other, and just…date each other.”
“I like the sound of that.” Her eyes twinkle.
“Good, because I plan on dating the hell out of you.”
Hazel laughs, and I move to kiss her again, but we’re interrupted by a knock on my door.
“Can I not get a single moment of damn privacy in this pucking loft?” I groan.
“So popular,” Hazel teases.
My door opens and Noah pops his head around it. His eyes widen when he sees me standing in a towel. “Dude, hurry up and get dressed. We have to leave in a few for this art thing—and don’t you dare say you’re not coming. If Fisher’s making me go, you’re going too.”
“Fine, I’m getting dressed now.” Noah closes the door and I turn to Hazel. “How do you feel about our first official date as a non-fake-couple being a local art show?”
“It sounds amazing.”
And you know what? It really does.