When Joss Met Matt (19 page)

“What would you say anyway?” Matt clasped his hands below his chin and batted his eyes. “Sorry, there was a puddle in the bathroom and I slipped, hitting my head on the sink. I've only just come to this very moment.”

A startled bark of laughter burst from my mouth. I pressed my lips together and tried to maintain my anger, but my feet took me into the tiny vestibule at the bottom of the stairs anyway. “I should have told him there was an emergency.”

“I told you that. You said it was trite.” He crossed his arms.

“This is still your fault.” I took my coat off and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall.

“Okay, fine. It's my fault, are you happy?”

“No, I'm an idiot.”

He stayed silent.

“Why am I doing this?” I asked. “Why did I do this horrible thing to this great guy?”

“Don't examine your motives right now, there's a crazy woman on her way to my apartment.”

“You really know how to make a girl want to stick around.”

“Just go upstairs, please.” He threw the dead bolt and gestured for me to precede him.

“Does she know I'm going to be here?”

“I told her I was going back to you. She said she wanted to come over to discuss it. I told her not to. Then, I didn't answer her last call, but she left a message saying she was coming over. She says we need to talk.”

“So, how do you want to play this?” I asked. I didn't want to think too hard about what it said about me, but I'd decided to stick around. Might as well get down to logistics for the disaster in the making.

“I don't know. Just back me up about our fictional former relationship.”

“You owe me so big …” I gave him an arch look when I got to the top of the stairs. “He's already called me four times.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn't answer.”

“Cold.” He grinned.

“Hey, this was all your idea. You don't have a leg to stand on.”

“Mea culpa.”

“God damn lawyer,” I muttered, loud enough that he'd hear.

Matt grinned. He was in law school for lack of another direction in life. He had no intention of being an attorney and loved lawyer jokes.

There was a loud pounding on the door below and we glanced at each other.

“Showtime,” Matt muttered, headed for the stairs.

After my reprehensible escape from dinner, I should have been doing something considerably more karma-building than this, but as long as I was already here, I was inspired to take on the role. “Wait!” I said, catching him by the back of his shirt.

“What?” He turned.

I set to work on his shirt, opening the top four or five buttons before it was loose enough to pull over his head, followed by his T-shirt. He was left in nothing but his jeans. “Okay, go.”

“What is on your devious mind?” he wondered aloud as the pounding resumed on the door.

“Get the door before she breaks it down.” I pointed a finger at the stairs and gave him my sternest look. He didn't seem impressed, instead stroking his thumb along one side of my jaw before he walked to the door.

As soon as he headed down the stairs, I darted down the hall to his bedroom. It was dark in the room, but I knew my way around well enough. I stripped down to my panties, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor and whipped the blanket off the sloppily made bed. Then I pulled the top sheet free and wrapped it around myself toga-style. I dragged it down the hall with me, ruffling my free hand through my hair and taking a moment to smear my mascara before I stepped through the mullioned door at the top of the stairs.

“Matty, who's at the door? Come back to bed.”

He glanced over his shoulder and took in my appearance with only the barest hint of surprise.

“What's going on?” Christine demanded, anger making her small features take on the look of Tinker Bell.

“What's she doing here?” I asked.

“I knew it!” she shouted, shoving past Matt to storm up the stairs. “I knew you were after him!”

“Me? He broke up with you,” I said.

Matt hurried up the stairs, trying to get around Christine, but she had one hand slammed against the wall on each side of the stairs. “No, he didn't!” she snarled.

“Yes, he did, you fruit loop,” I said, amused to hear Matt's term come out of my mouth. “Haven't you been listening?”

She turned. “Matt, how could you do this to me?” she said, chin quivering. “Everything was going so well!”

His eyes widened. I could read his thoughts loud and clear:
Are you fucking kidding me?
He schooled his features before speaking. “I'm sorry, Christine. I just can't say no to her.”

And then she did the last thing I expected. She wheeled around and hit me. An openhanded slap to my left cheek. I had never been hit before and several thoughts crossed my mind simultaneously. First, I felt a detached fascination. Second, the stinging pain that shot through my cheek and made my eyes water amazed me. Third, I felt an immediate desire to hit her back.

“Hey!” Matt said, making me realize that less than a second had passed. He shoved past her to put himself protectively between us. “What do you think you're doing?”

“You crazy bitch,” I gasped, covering my cheek.

“I hate you!” she screamed, trying to reach around Matt to get another swipe at me. I darted backward, catching my heels in the trailing sheet and nearly falling. I caught the edge of the doorframe with the tips of one outstretched hand.

“Get out, Christine. Now,” Matt said in a tone that offered no room for argument.

“I don't ever want to see you again,” she said.

“Thank God. Get out,” he repeated.

“You can keep your precious whore, you … you … jerk!” She made an about-face, thundered down the stairs, and slammed the door.

“God, Joss, are you okay?” Matt asked me.

I didn't hesitate—I punched him in the shoulder. “She fucking hit me!”

“You just hit me!”

“You owe me even bigger now,” I said, taking my hand away from my hot cheek. He winced, looking at my face with concern.

“I'm so sorry.”

“You better be!” I slugged him in the shoulder again. He had the decency not to rub the spot.

“Let's get you some ice.”

I shook my head and pressed my fingers into my cheek. “Don't. It's not that bad.”

“I'm really sorry.”

“I can't believe she slapped me!”

“Me neither.”

From a distance, we heard the sound of squealing tires. I braced for the sound of an impact, fearing that Crazy Christine was going to total my car in revenge. None came. I heard her race down the service drive, engine roaring in protest.

“Holy crap. She's seriously insane,” I said, dabbing at my cheek again.

“I told you,” he said. “Rabbit-boiling crazy. But, I swear, I didn't think she would get violent. I'm really sorry, Jossie.”

“New rule. You're not allowed to get me bitch-slapped anymore.”

“Deal.”

“God damn, that really hurt!” I said in amazement. “I had no idea it would hurt that much.”

Matt grinned. “You should have hit her back.”

“I'm not having a naked cat fight for you, pal. I think I've done quite enough for you tonight.” I hitched the sheet tighter to my body.

“You're naked under there?”

“Almost.”

His eyes moved down, as if he was praying for the sudden onset of X-ray vision.

“Matt!” I protested, more out of form than any real indignation. “You've already convinced me to disappear in the middle of my date
and
gotten me slapped in the face by a crazy woman. Are you seriously gonna suggest I should have sex with you on top of all that?”

He made a thoughtful face. “It sounds worse when you say it all out loud.”

“No kidding.”

“Then, I guess you should go get dressed.”

“Nope.” I dragged the sheet to the couch and flopped down in front of the TV. He'd left it on mute, showing a hockey game. There was time on the clock, but I didn't know how much of the game was left. I didn't know who was playing—hell, I didn't even like hockey, but I was in the mood to be a pain in the ass. Matt had earned a little of that.

“Why not?”

“I'm gonna sit here with you knowing full well that I have nothing but a thong on under this sheet and you're just gonna have to deal with it.”

“Is this supposed to be some sort of payback for tonight?”

“You got it.”

He sat across from me, in the room's one chair and watched me rather than the game. I studiously avoided his eyes and tucked my feet up beneath me, leaning on the arm for a better view of the television. Knowing he was watching, I let the tight wrap of the sheet loosen, slowly revealing more of my back until it was pooled around my hips, but still covered my breasts. The Red Wings were pulling their goalie in a desperate bid for victory when Matt spoke.

“Are you trying to seduce me or something?”

“Shhh … the game's almost over.”

Matt stood and came to my side of the room. He knelt on the couch behind me and braced his hands around my torso so that he could lean close enough to kiss my right shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I asked, turning to look back at him.

“Invoking the conflict rule. You're pissed at me, and I get to make it up to you.” He brushed my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed.

“I'm not pissed at you,” I said.

“Seems like you are.”

I shifted slightly onto one hip to get a better look at him. “I just can't believe an evening that started with a nice dinner date ended with me getting slapped in the face. Literally.”

He skimmed his fingertips over my offended cheek. “It doesn't have to end that way.”

“It sounds like
you're
trying to seduce
me,
O Person Who Is at Fault for This Whole Mess.”

“Maybe.” He leaned closer and kissed my willing lips.

I turned more and slid my hands over his still-bare shoulders. “Why are you doing that?”

“I told you. I need to make it up to you. It's my fault you got slapped.”

I kissed him, and felt the sheet slip down to near indecency. “It's my fault you met her in the first place.”

“That's true,” he agreed, kissing my cheek in a trail toward my ear.

“But it's not my fault you're such a little man-tramp that you had to bring her back to your house as soon as you could get her out of her clothes.” My eyes slipped shut as he passed my ear and worked his way down my throat with soft, wet kisses. He laughed against my neck, breath tickling me into goose bumps.

“You're right, that was my fault.”

“And it's your fault that I blew my chance with Josh.”

He stopped kissing my collarbone for a second, and I heard hesitation in his voice when he agreed, “Also true.” I was willing to take it.

“And you're the one who came up with this stupid plan.”

“I never told you to take your clothes off and come traipsing out here looking like lust in human form.”

I smiled. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He straightened up to grin at me, then kissed me again, letting his carefully balanced weight descend onto me. “So, are you mad at me, or not?”

I didn't answer at first, in favor of savoring the warm contact with Matt. He was radiating heat, as usual. “Not,” I decided.

“So, we don't need to resolve any conflict?” he said into my hair.

“Wait, then, yes. I am mad.”

“Okay, good.”

There wasn't much clothing between us, but the sheet was something of a nuisance and it wasn't long before we were both struggling against it. “You're laying on it—” I gasped, trying to pull a section free from my legs.

“Fuck it, the couch is too small anyway.” He picked me up, sheet and all. I made transporting us to the bedroom difficult by refusing to stop kissing him. “Joss, I can't see,” he said, pulling away.

“Sorry, sorry.” I turned my face into his shoulder, trying to clear his vision.

He dropped me onto the bed, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, and grabbed the end of the sheet. It took two or three tugs to pull it free, and I got a bit of a rug burn on my back from the last pull, but I didn't care. I stripped off my last scrap of clothing while Matt did the same and then he was on top of me.

Our skin stuck together like window clings as we lay together that night. Outside the cocoon of blankets we'd created, February was hard at work cooling the bedroom to a goose-pimply sixty-something. Beneath the sheets, though, we could have thawed a Thanksgiving turkey. The tip of my nose, exposed to the elements, was frosty and I pushed it against Matt's cheek.

“One more new rule,” I said. “Next time, we're going to my place. My heater works.”

“I may have to break up with someone just so I can sleep at your place.”

I smiled, eyes heavy with sleep. “Maybe we should just start fighting a lot.”

“Set me up again, and I don't think we'll have a problem with that.”

“All right, all right, point taken.” I pinched him. “You're on your own.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Now

“Okay, fine, so that was kind of … messy,” I admitted. “But, we've been fine since then.”

“How many second dates have you been on since you walked out on Josh?”

I frowned. “I don't know.”

“How many
dates
have you been on? Period.”

“Jesus, Matt, it's not like I keep a logbook.”

“All right, sorry. I just …” He sighed. “I think it's gotten to the point where we can't do this anymore.”

The room seemed to tilt wildly and I slapped my hands down on the cushions. I blinked and the world was steady again. Physically anyway. “What do you mean?”

“I don't think we can keep up this … 
thing
much longer.”

I wanted to cry, but I shoved my forearm into my stomach and got out a whisper. “Is this about the new girl?”

“Yes and no.”

“Would you just tell me the story already? You're starting to freak me out.”

Matt shifted into the corner of the couch, bringing one knee up so we were facing each other, one cushion between us. “So, there's this girl at school, like I said. Tara.”

“Right.”

“And she's cute.” He shrugged and shifted his gaze to a point somewhere behind me. “She's blond and pretty, and she seems smart. So, I should like her.”

“So, what's the problem?”

He looked down and found a loose thread on his jeans to pull at. “The problem is that when I look at her, I look for what's wrong. I look for the reason we're gonna break up.”

“I think that's normal. I always think the same thing.
How long is this gonna last? Is it worth it?
I think everybody does that.”

“Yeah, but it's always worth it because I know you'll be there at the end.” His expression was impossible to read and I began to feel nervous.

“What does that even mean?”

He shifted again, rising to his feet and pacing to the desk. I had to twist to follow his path. He perched on the corner of it and crossed his arms. “I'm willing to be an ass and break up with Tara, because I know you'll be there when I do. And I'm starting to hate that about myself. I keep dating all these stupid girls because I know I can get out of it and you'll still be there.”

I blinked, feeling like the sofa was suddenly less steady in the room. “So … what? The deal's off?”

“I think it has to be.”

“I don't understand where this is coming from. Why now? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Joss …” He pushed off the desk and walked past the fireplace, stopping to drum his fingers against the back of the armchair. “It's just that ever since my dad died, I've been kind of … I don't know, lost? Maybe that's it. I've been thinking about what's important, and I don't want to waste Tara's time. Or mine, anymore.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, willing myself not to cry. “I get it. This whole thing is kind of silly, I guess.” I tried to smile. “It was bound to end sometime, right?”

He looked relieved. “Right. I think we're getting too old for the game.”

“Okay.” I nodded and stood up, unable to make eye contact. “I'm sorry I dragged it on for so long.”

“You?” His tone was one of shock, and I looked up. “This is my fault. I should have said something before. I should have said something after my father's funeral.”

I gave him a little half-smile, still not able to look in his eyes. “I don't think I would have believed you, then. You were so upset.”

“You're probably right.”