Chapter 3
MATTY
Dancing with Elias was fun. More fun than I’ve had in ages.
Something about the way he watches me, the way he follows like I encapsulate every ounce of his attention—I haven’t felt this seen, this desired since Riley.
It’s scary as shit.
Because we’ve met twice, and already I want to drag him to my apartment and bury us both in my bed. Not even just for sex—I want him to talk to me in that gentle, teasing voice of his until we drift off to sleep.
I said I wanted connection, but this—whatever this is—is too much too fast. I’m not sure my heart can handle it.
I don’t care how pretty his eyes are or how much I want to kiss his dimples and find out if he has dimples in other places … I will not fall stupidly in love with Elias Lee.
‘You’re blushing.’ I catch Hannah’s hands out of the corner of my eye, and it takes my brain a second for the signs to register.
‘I’m not’. I go to set my bag in the booth opposite Hannah, but stop when I see someone already taking up the space. ‘Who’s this?’
She looks from me to the kid clapping their hands along to a tablet on the table.
‘C-A-L-U-M,’ she signs. ‘Keeping an eye on him for a friend.’
I smile at the little boy who is maybe five or six, but his attention doesn’t leave the video he’s watching, so I gingerly sit down at the end of the booth beside him.
‘Babysitting?’
Hannah rolls her eyes and playfully kicks my foot under the table. ‘It’s just for an hour. Work emergency.’
‘Mind if I keep you two company?’
‘Feel free.’
I turn my attention to my phone, where I have a list of local strip clubs pulled up, and I hate to admit it, but Hannah is right. I am blushing.
I’ve never stepped foot in a strip club before—neither Riley or I are into girls, and no way was I getting my closeted boyfriend to a gay club—and I shouldn’t be considering going to one now.
But I have no other ideas for running into Elias again.
I’m such a fucking masochist, because I desperately want to see him.
One of the servers drops a basket of fries in front of the little boy, and for the first time since I arrived, he looks up to pop one in his mouth.
Which is a mistake, because the fries are hot, and he throws it across the table, sticking his tongue out and pulling it with his fingers.
“Whoa, hey, it’s alright.” I scoot the fries just out of reach when he makes a grab for them again, and he smacks at my hand with an annoyed grunt.
He looks at me, though, with an irritated pout that quickly slides off his face. It’s only for a beat, and then he’s clamoring to his feet and sprawling across my back.
I have not a lick of experience with children, so I freeze and throw a helpless look to Hannah, who simply smiles at my predicament.
“Hey, pal,” I say, raising a hand to pat the kid’s side, but his only response is gripping and tugging on my braid until I squeak. “Ouch. Don’t pull.”
He giggles and sits up enough to press his cheek to my shoulder, tugging more gently until the elastic comes out, and then he’s digging his fingers into my hair and pulling it every which way.
I look at Hannah again, and the amusement on her face doesn’t dip a fraction as she pats the table three heavy times. The kid lifts his head to look at her. She points to his seat, and after taking another minute to pick at my hair, he follows her direction and settles back in front of his tablet.
Before I can ask any questions, she swings her eyes to me. ‘About the blushing.’
I groan and slide my phone across the table. Her brows raise, and she taps the screen before turning it back to me.
Breathless Desires - Male strip club.
I look up at Hannah and her smug smile. ‘Elias.’
She finger spells, then follows it up with rubbing the ‘E’ sign on her nose.
My mouth drops open even as I feel a smile forming. ‘You gave him a sign name? Are you friends?’
She shrugs. ‘He’s a regular. We’re familiar enough. He’s a funny guy.’
Ugh. That is in no way helping my resolve not to fall into serious like with the guy.
We chat a little off and on, but I’ve mostly got my headphones on making a content schedule.
Not everything I post is sexual in nature. Pictures and videos are good at hooking people, but I also write a lot of sappy posts about domestic daydreams of mine. Sure, there’s lots of lyrical descriptions about how my dream guy touches and holds me, but I wouldn’t consider most of them erotic.
Though, there’s a couple erotic stories on there for when I haven’t quite been in the mood to film but my thoughts were definitely in the gutters.
I try to balance it all out with the little cafe gig I pick up occasional shifts at.
Hannah and I don’t usually chat much when we hang out; we just enjoy the quiet of each other’s company. I swear it’s more her way of getting me out of my apartment—and away from the headache inducing toxic fumes.
Calum—the little boy—stays pretty well behaved the rest of the time. He munches on his fries, watches videos, and claps along to the songs. Sometimes he shouts bits of it along with them, but none of Randy's patrons seem to mind.
Occasionally, he’ll reach over and grab my hand—like when he drops a fry and wants me to pick it up—or get distracted by my hair, but he’s gentle this time, twirling it around his finger while staring at his show.
It’s kind of cute, honestly, and it makes my chest feel a little tight, because there was a time when I wondered if Riley and I would have kids someday. If he’d want that. If I’d want that.
It was years ago, but that doesn’t make the little ache in my heart any less raw.
A little while later, once I’ve got a solid plan for the week in place and am itching to do some internet surfing that is definitely not safe for babysitting, Hannah looks up and waves excitedly at a shadow that falls over the table.
I don’t look at first, but Calum has his hand in my hair again, and when Hannah’s movement gets his attention, he bounces up with all of his contained enthusiasm.
Which is fine, except the hand clutched in my hair doesn’t let up, and he yanks it hard.
I curse louder than I should in the presence of little ears, and soon enough the little iron grip releases me, and a soothing, familiar voice speaks overhead.
“Cal, little man, we have to be easy. I know, his hair is really pretty and soft, but we have to be gentle when we touch people. Can you say you’re sorry.”
Calum’s cheek presses to the top of my head, and I can’t hold back a smile.
“So-rry,” he says, broken up into two syllables and pitched high in the middle. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak.
I pat his arm where it’s wrapped around my neck, and there’s a huff from beside me as his weight lightens.
“You’re too big for this.”
I know that laugh. Nervous and a little breathy.
I tilt my head to glance up and feel the breath in my lungs skitter out.
Elias Lee. Standing all kinds of disheveled with his blond hair sticking all out around his face with a bright smile as he holds Cal on his hip, the boy moves on to playing with his hair instead.
In the light and with the proper focus, I can see the streaks of teal scattered throughout.
His eyes move from Calum to me, and those already soft irises become gentler.
“Hi, Matty.”
“Hey, Elias.”
I wish I had the energy from the other night, because I’ve been thinking about how to up my flirting game for the next time we crossed paths.
Unfortunately, I’ve also been thinking about what he does for work, and I’ve written some rather filthy fantasy tidbits about how a future rendezvous could go.
The latter is what fills my thoughts when I look at him now.
Oh, I’m in trouble.
“Thanks for watching him.” Elias is talking to Hannah now, clumsily signing a ‘thank you’ with his free hand.
Hannah waves him off and motions to me. ‘Matty was the real superstar today.’
He furrows his brow, and I figure he probably doesn’t know much sign. And based on Hannah’s cheeky smile, I’m going to guess she knows that.
Elias’ turns to me with a hopeful helplessness, and I sigh, flicking a french fry at my friend across the table.
“She said I helped out, that’s all.”
“Well thank you,” he says with his own smile, and goddamn do I like looking at it.
Looking at him.
He readjusts to reach over the table and grab Calum’s tablet, but when he does, Calum leaps right out of his arms and koala’s himself into mine.
A noise of surprise leaves his throat, and quick hands snatch Calum back, but not before he grabs my hair again. Elias is careful not to pull him away too roughly, putting his hand over Cal’s and disentangling his fingers.
I’m not sure if he notices, but when he pulls away his knuckles brush my cheek, and a current of electricity bolts beneath my skin.
“Sorry, Matty. I guess he really likes you.”
I flash him a reassuring smile, and—dammit—the way he’s looking at the kid makes my heart melt.
“He’s a sweet kid. Looks a lot like you.” They both definitely have the same nose and dark eyes.
“Thanks. Thank you both. I really have to get him home …” He trails off as Calum tries to reach for something over his shoulder. “Wha—Oh, you want a milkshake? We can get one to take with us. Hold on a second.”
He’s looking around a little frantically, and I take a quick peek around the booth to make sure it doesn’t look like they’re forgetting anything.
When I come up short and he’s still struggling with his hold on Calum and whatever it is he’s after, I stand and wrap my fingers around his bicep, eliciting a sharp gasp out of us both.
Christ, why does touching him have to feel this good?
“Relax. Do you need some help?”
He goes to shake his head but then stops, face reddening and turning sheepish as he nods.
“Actually, yeah. Do you—would you—” he cuts himself off, scratching at the pink of his cheeks.
“Help me get him home so I can get your number? My hands are kind of tied, and if I don’t keep a hold of him, he’ll bolt. ”
Warmth spreads out through my limbs, a tingling sensation starting in my fingertips where we touch.
Because he doesn’t need me to walk him home to get my number, and we both know it’s just a flimsy excuse.
“Are you hitting on me?”
It’s Elias’ turn to get flustered, and he ducks his head so his hair covers his eyes. “Oh, um, no.” His words are soft, and his chuckle is stilted. “Well, not yet. But I liked seeing you the other night, and I thought I might like to again.”
Why am I weak for the sweet, awkward ones?
“I’ll come home with you,” I say, my smile growing as Elias gets more and more flustered. “Just to make sure you make it alright with that little beast there.”
Calum has his head on Elias’ shoulder, arms around his neck, singing softly to himself.
Elias’ shoulders sag, and he finally looks at me again. “Thank you. Let me grab Cal his milkshake, then we can head out. If that’s okay.”
I nod as he walks off toward the counter with a terse smile, and then I plop back into my seat with a pointed look at Hannah.
‘You didn’t tell me this was his kid.’ I swing my arm toward Elias but quickly drop it back down so as not to attract his attention.
Hannah smiles. ‘I didn’t? Whoops.’
I sigh and scrub a hand down my face. ‘Is he married?’
Because that’s just my luck that the first guy in years to make me feel something would be taken. I already thought I was pushing it because of the bi-curiosity.
Hannah shakes her head. ‘No. I've never met Cal's mom, but his dad is painfully single.’
She gives me a look. One that makes all those old, self-conscious thoughts rear their ugly heads. ‘What does that mean?’
‘That I've never seen him look at anyone with that sort of open attraction. I think someone has a crush.’
My cheeks are hot now, blazing. Hannah’s grin turns sly and sneaky, and she leans across the table, hands close to my face.
‘One that might be reciprocated?’
As much as I like the idea, I sigh. 'He has a kid.’
She raises her brow. ‘So?'
‘So! I’d make a horrible parent.’
Hannah’s laugh is loud enough that it echoes through the diner, and I glance over at Elias looking back at us with curious amusement. I quickly look away, afraid he’ll see the pounding of my heart in my eyes.
‘No one is asking you to marry the guy and be the kid’s other dad. But if you like him, I don't see why you can't explore a little bit.'
I fold my arms on the table and lean my head on them, watching Elias and Calum out of the corner of my eye. They’re both smiling, and even though Elias rolls his eyes at some of his son’s antics, he’s still calm and affectionate with him.
I really shouldn’t get involved. I bet his situation is complicated; most parents’ is, but when he turns with his milkshake in hand, eyes finding mine, they radiate a pure, scorching happiness.
Who am I kidding?
I’ll go home with him, and even though I tell myself I absolutely won’t step foot inside, if he asked in that low, kind voice with his hand literally anywhere on my body, I’d cave in a heartbeat.