Chapter 8
ELIAS
I kind of figured Matty would brush me off. Chalk it up to a joke and pretend I’d never said anything.
But there it is when I check my phone at the end of my shift, street clothes back on and ready to brave the worsening autumn air for the trek home.
Matty likes to call me sexy, but I think that’s all him.
I can’t think straight when I’m with him. I know I need to keep some semblance of distance between us, but every time I see him I cave.
Now is no different.
Matty is standing in the kitchen with one arm crossed over his chest while the other holds his phone for the picture.
There’s a cup of cocoa on the counter behind him, full and topped with marshmallows.
He’s got a cheeky little grin with his tongue sticking out like I usually do, and he’s in a slightly more flirty mood because he’s got the phone angled so I can see the waistband of his boxers.
Matty
Cal wanted marshmallows, and I wanted liquid sugar.
I smile, and though I can’t return the favor since I’m already dressed, I snap a shot of me in my hoodie, hair a tousled, sweaty mess. I can, however, tease him another way.
Me
Relief is on the way, sweetheart.
I can almost picture him scowling at the screen, maybe rolling his eyes, because I’ve turned his objections on the word into an ongoing joke.
Matty
Want me to shove a dick up your ass, Lee? Because I have a box full, and I’m not afraid to use them.
The wind rushes in through the open door, and I pull the string on my hoodie for extra warmth. Matty is such a grumpy brat, I swear. He can dish it out but can’t take it in return.
I shake my head and hit the call button, grin stretching when it rings exactly one and half times before he answers.
“You planning on taking my ass virginity, sweetheart?”
He must have been taking a sip of his drink, because he sputters and coughs, following it up with a contained groan.
“Shut up. Just shut up. Your son is on the verge of falling asleep, and if we wake him up now, he’ll never go back down.”
I love that he knows that. I love that in the last two weeks he’s grown used to Cal’s schedule and intricacies.
The number of meltdowns when they’re alone have already decreased dramatically.
I dare say, Cal even enjoys having Matty around.
He’ll often climb into Matty’s lap to watch videos or lay at his feet under the coffee table.
“I’m not the one being loud, doll.”
I’ve also found that pet names fluster him to no end. Which makes me want to do it more.
“You tease me, Lee, but my fuse is only so long.”
How bad is it that I want to push him over the edge? That I want him to lose all composure and give into this thing between us?
Not that I’m willing to admit to such things myself. Nope. Harmless flirting and casual touching is our line in the sand. We might push up against it, but we don’t cross it.
“Admit it. You look forward to me flustering you up.”
If I rile him up enough, I might be able to convince him to give me some couch cuddles when I get home to warm me up because it is fucking freezing out here.
“You drive me up the wall,” he says with a quiet edge of laughter. “But I do like our talks.”
Something absolutely sappy and romantic is going to come out of my mouth—I just know it—but thankfully my phone beeps with another incoming call.
Miya.
“Ah, hey. My sister’s calling. I’ll see you at home?”
“See you at home, troublemaker.”
His nicknames for me aren’t nearly as sweet and endearing, but I like them all the same.
I like him.
It makes me too damn giddy.
I end the call and switch over to the video chat Miya is instigating. She’s sitting on her bed with the lamp turned on beside her, dark hair braided and hanging over her shoulder. I can faintly hear the rustling of Roxy so the two of them must be getting ready for bed.
“Long time no speak.”
She rolls her eyes and plasters on an amused smile. “You try planning a wedding to satisfy your very bold and abrasive soon-to-be wife and our very traditional Korean mother.”
That combination sounds absolutely horrifying. “She loves us and will be happy with whatever the two of you choose to do. The woman didn’t even blink when you brought Roxy home and told her this was the woman you were going to marry.”
My sister had very little interest in dating before she met Roxy, and that really only ended because the pressure of having the first grandchild was taken off her shoulders. Mom was so busy fussing over Calum that Miya finally got a bit of freedom.
The very first thing she did with it was explore her bisexuality.
“You’re my best man. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to offload some of this shit onto you.”
We both laugh but know exactly why I’m not in charge of anything official. Between work and Cal, my ability to keep up with commitments is abysmal. Cal also doesn’t handle the pressure change in planes very well, so we’re holding out on a visit until the wedding itself.
Which is in the middle of November.
Bless California weather, because I am more than happy to get out of these arctic temperatures.
“I mean, if you were down here, I could probably book you a bachelorette party at my job, but how much would Roxy appreciate you being the center of a hot-men-sandwich?”
Miya doesn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before Roxy’s damp, springy curls take up the screen.
“Roxy would be ecstatic and would demand to be on video call.”
Self-appointed queer with a capital Q, Roxy says her sexuality and gender identities are entirely fluid and has no interest in micro-labels.
“You just want to talk me into hooking up with one of the dancers so you can boss us around.”
Did I mention that they’re also openly poly?
That part we don’t talk about with mom—she’s cool with us exploring and loving who we want, but she isn’t cool about everything. I got one hell of an earful for knocking up Calum’s mom in college.
“I don't guess you’d be able to spring a trip to come and see Cal before the wedding, huh?”
I'm half worried it'll be too much for him, and he'll spend the whole time stuck in the hotel room.
Miya takes the phone back and leans against her headboard.
“I wish, little brother. Money is tight, and the big day is … two months away.”
Two months and my twin will be a married gal.
“Worth a shot.” I shrug and give her a lazy smile. “I love you.”
“Love you, too. Are you almost home?”
“Yeah.” Home. I hope Matty is still up.
“Think I can talk to Cal for a few?”
I twist my key in the lock, hearing the soft hum of Matty’s music in the background. Apparently, he plays some of his favorites to wind the two of them down at night.
Cute.
“He might still be up. Let me check with Matty first.”
“Who’s Matty?”
Right. Right. Haven't had a talk about his old sitter yet. Priorities.
Speaking of priorities, those pesky fuckers fly right out the open door when I step inside and see Matty half bent over, resting his elbows and one of his legs on the back of the couch. He's got his phone in one hand while pushing on his leg with the other.
This is a record scratch moment, because the pose is hot as fuck, and Matty is still shirtless.
When he hears the door, Matty throws a look up from his phone and grins.
“Hey there, stranger.”
I clear my throat and meet his smile. “Hey.”
He lowers from his elbows, finishing the stretch with his chest parallel to his leg on the cushion.
My brain will come back online eventually. If there was ever any doubt about my sexuality, this man has cleared up all the confusion.
“I moved Cal to his room; he’s out like a light.” He straightens again, pushing up with his arms and arching his back.
I know he’s doing his dancer stretches; it’s not the first time I’ve caught him in some faux-erotic position, but that doesn’t stop how my eyes train on him and refuse to refocus.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
His cheeks redden, but it’s the absolute cotton candy softness that blankets him that just does me in. I plop down onto the couch in front of him, wrapping my fingers around his ankle and rubbing the skin affectionately.
We’re fucking smiling all wistfully at each other, but I can already see the mischievous gears spurring to life in his brain.
I set my phone on my lap—prepared to retaliate for whatever he has planned—when someone coughs. Matty frowns, and I peer toward Cal’s room.
“Little brother.”
Ah, fuck!
Miya. Right. Phone call.
I pick the phone back up and smile apologetically. “Sorry, Mi, I got distracted.”
My sister’s smirk is a dangerous thing. “So I could tell. Is that Matty?”
He makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, like it’s inconceivable that I’ve talked to anyone about him, so I tilt the phone up just slightly so his face is in frame.
Maybe that was a bad idea, because he’s half propped up again, obviously half naked, and his leg is right beside my face on the couch. He waves and ducks down, so I toss him the shirt lying across the coffee table. Dirty or clean, he shrugs it over his shoulders and gives the camera a terse smile.
“Yeah, he’s staying with me for a little while and helping out with Calum.”
Suspicion takes root in Miya’s gaze, and she exchanges a look with Roxy off camera. “I’m Miya, Ei’s older sister.”
“Twin sister,” I correct. “She popped out first and never lets me forget it.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Matty says, finally breaking his position, and instead standing awkwardly behind me.
I pat the spot on the couch directly to my right and raise a brow. “What are you being weird for? Sit down.”
That only makes the blush on his cheeks go wild, and my forehead scrunches in confusion.
What is up with him?
Even still, he walks around and takes a seat, making my chest hum with happiness.
“Cal is already in bed,” I say to Miya. “But if you want to video chat tomorrow, I’m sure he’d love that.”
“So would I. I’m working from home tomorrow, so it works out.”
Miya is a graphic designer at some start up out in LA.
“I should be heading to sleep myself. It's late.”