When Joss Met Matt (8 page)

“You know that makes you sound like a big tramp, right?” she asked.

I gave her another shove.

“I'm just saying …” She grinned. “Would you cheat on Alex if Matt wanted to hook up this weekend?”

“No! Jeez! What do you take me for?”

“Hey, I think that's our turn up ahead.” Jessie pointed and squinted at the map. I slowed again, and took the right as she confirmed the name of the road. We left my question unanswered as we both started looking for the sign for the next turn.

After we'd found it, Jessie propped her foot on the dashboard again and turned to look at me. “Would it piss you off if I said I think you should date Matt instead of Alex?”

“Why don't you like Alex? Why doesn't anyone?”

“Why doesn't that tell you something?” she retorted.

I scowled at her. “You guys just don't get to see what he's like when we're alone. He's so sweet and he thinks I'm like the greatest thing since sliced bread. Do you know what that's like?”

“Sounds pretty standard to me.”

“How so?”

“Isn't that the point of boyfriends? They're supposed to think you walk on water, aren't they?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, that's the kind I want.” Her other bare foot joined the first on the dash. “Except, you know, I want him to trust me.” She gave me a pointed look.

“He's protective. I think it's cute.”

“Protective is cute. Freaky jealous—” She sucked air through her teeth. “It gets old. Fast.”

We fought. For the remaining six weeks of summer, we fought. I did a lot of apologizing. Enough to make me sick of it, frankly, because I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd done exactly what he'd done, in fact, but that didn't seem to matter to him. Jessie was right, jealousy gets tiring in a big hurry. Sure, it was cute that he thought I was such a catch that other guys were clearly out to snatch me from him at every turn, but there's a little thing called trust, and Alex didn't seem to have any of it in me.

Even after I moved back to Madison in August, it didn't stop. I had hoped our proximity might ease his mind, but nothing changed. Every time I went out with friends, he thought I was cheating on him. Every time a guy smiled at me in public, he got irritated. If I'd breathed a word of our ongoing struggle to my friends, they would have told me to break up with him, so I didn't. I let it all collect in my core, wound tight and tense.

The problem was, aside from the jealousy, I liked him, I couldn't believe that things wouldn't change. For six months, I convinced myself he would change, relax, or finally trust me. Then, it was another three months of telling myself it was time to get the hell out and stop being lazy. See, it turned out that I'm something of an addict for being someone's girlfriend. It took a lot for me to admit that to myself. I like having a boyfriend. I like having someone to count on for a weekend's entertainment. Someone who will come to my apartment and move furniture for me. Someone to spoon with. And Alex was the first long-term boyfriend I had after Ben. It was hard to think of cutting all of that comfort out of my life.

So, I waited. And, yes, maybe I pushed a few buttons in the hopes of bringing myself out of the comfort coma. Ultimately, however, the decision was his. The first time.

I had plans with Jessie, Annemarie, and Kerry for the night. It was just going to be a girls' night out. Nothing exciting. We planned to drink champagne, get strangers to buy us drinks, and give them nothing in return. Our typical definition of fun.

Alex had plans for the night as well. It seemed perfect.

“Do you want to meet up with us after the game?” he asked when we spoke on the phone before he left for the hockey arena.

“I'm not sure. I think the girls are planning on just us for the night.”

“Why? Are you trying to meet other guys?”

“No!” I said, feeling my patience stretch to the breaking point. “God, Alex, when are you going to trust me?”

“I do trust you. I just don't trust other guys.”

“Which is stupid. If you trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

“At least tell me where you're going to be.”

“I don't know.” It was true, I didn't know.

“You just don't want to tell me.”

“No,” I drawled, working hard at not getting mad. “I seriously don't know.” Each word got individual enunciation and emphasis as my temper threatened to explode.

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

I stared at it for a moment, stunned at his outburst. He'd never hung up on me before. I considered calling him back just to hang up on him, but there is nothing satisfying about hanging up a cell phone anyway. I decided it wasn't worth the effort.

When we hit the bars that night, it was with a vengeance. I was pissed, and I needed the girls to help me work up a full head of steam to break my relationship inertia. It was the first time I was completely honest about my relationship, and it was like opening a floodgate. I was caffeine-jittery by the time I let it all out, spewing language that would have made a nun faint. To be fair, the girls were not surprised. And they were more than willing to help, offering the classic girlfriend gems:

“You're too good for him.”

“You could do so much better.”

“Who does he think he is?”

“You should call him up right now and dump his ass.”

I probably would have done it anyway, but Alex sealed the deal before I had the chance. He left me a voice mail. I hadn't even heard my phone ring in the crowded bar. I got the message when we were in transit to our next location.

“Jocelyn, it's Alex. I don't know if I can take much more of this. I just can't stand it when I don't know what you're doing. And you don't seem to care. I'm not sure this is working.” The message was hard to hear over the background noises. I realized he must be at the arena and that, more than anything, pissed me off.

“That fucker just dumped me during halftime!” I shouted to the girls.

“What?!” was the general reaction. They all insisted on listening to the message and then launched into a five-minute diatribe about Alex's character that involved language far worse than anything I'd come up with.

“Come on,” Annemarie said, “let's go find some guys for you to really make him jealous.”

“No way,” I protested. “I'm not hooking up with some stranger to make a point.”

“Oh, come on,” Jessie reasoned. “It would serve him right.”

“I've got a better idea,” I said, already searching my new phone's directory to find Matt's number. He should have been in my favorites, but I was always afraid Alex would see it there and freak out.

“Hello?” he shouted when he picked up.

“Matty, it's Joss.”

“Hey, Joss, what's up?”

“Where are you?”

“I'm at the hockey game,” he shouted. “Why?”

“I need you tonight.”

There was a long pause.

“Matt?”

“My place or yours?” he shouted.

I grinned. “Mine.”

“I can be there in an hour.”

Chapter Eleven

Six Years Earlier … First Semester Sophomore Year

My nose was still red from my chilly walk home when Matt showed up at my front door. I let him in and told him to have a seat on the couch while I took off my boots. Instead, he followed me into my bedroom and sat on the bed.

“So, what happened?” he asked.

“Huh!” I snorted, and tossed him my cell phone. “Listen to the message.” He tapped into my voice mail and held the phone up to his ear, his expression unreadable.

“When did you get this?” he asked.

“Just before I called you. He was at the hockey game. The jerk actually called me from the Kohl Center at fucking halftime!” I yanked my boot off.

“There's no halftime in hockey,” Matt said.

I shot him a look. “Whatever.” The boot hit the back wall of the closet when I tossed it.

“I'm just saying …”

“Well, just don't,” I said, throwing my other boot to meet its mate.

He gave me a naughty grin. “Hockey has three periods.”

“Matt, I swear to God—” I let the threat hang in the air.

“Man, you are really pissed.”

“Wouldn't you be?” I snapped.

“Well, yeah …”

“I got dumped on voice mail on a fucking Saturday night!” I ranted. “This is a new one for me, that's for sure!”

“At least it wasn't an email.”

“Oh, yeah, there's a fucking silver lining.” I pulled my earrings out quickly enough to hurt a little and winced.

“I think this is too fresh,” he said. “Are you sure you want to …?”

“Absolutely.” I peeled off the hideous white tube socks I'd worn to keep my feet warm inside my boots. “I am so done with him, I don't even want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure?” he repeated. “'Cause you're talking about it an awful lot.”

“Matt. Seriously. Shut up.” I yanked my shirt over my head and shoved my skirt to the floor.

“You really know how to get a guy in the mood,” he teased.

“I'm taking my clothes off, aren't I?”

“That's supposed to be enough?”

Now clad only in a black satin bra and lace panties, I put my hands on my hips. “Isn't it?”

“Joss …” he hedged.

His hesitancy started to wear through my red haze of rage and I saw the scene for what it was at last. “Dammit.” I pressed the heel of one hand against my left eyebrow and squeezed my eyes shut. “I'm just … so pissed!”

“I know.”

“He's such a … jerk.”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured for me to come closer. I sat beside him on the bed and let him put his arm around me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I don't know.”

“Okay.” He pulled me tighter and kissed my head. I turned and kissed him on the lips, cupping his jaw to hold him in place. “Still hot for me, huh?” he teased.

“Just … please?”

“Yeah, okay.” He sighed.

I looked up at him, surprised. “Really? You're giving in?”

“Well, Jesus, Joss, it's a little hard to say no when you're sitting there in your bad girl underwear.”

I let out a surprised laugh and closed my eyes for a moment. “Yeah?”

“You really do have great taste in lingerie.”

“Thanks. I'm glad you like it.”

“I like it a lot.” He nudged me with his shoulder.

“So, are we doing this?” I asked.

“We're doing this.” In a remarkably fluid move, he turned and pressed me back on the bed, his body covering mine. The screen print of his T-shirt was cold against my skin so I made short work of pulling it off. He was smaller than Alex, but firmer, and I liked the way his back felt under my hands. I liked a lot of things about being naked with him, for that matter. He was the perfect antidote to a stale relationship. Being with Matt was such a strange combination of familiar and new. The first-time anxiety was gone, but the long gaps between our encounters made each time something exciting.

Even though it wasn't our best work, it was still exactly what I wanted. Matt distracted me from my anger; made me feel good. He actually worked really hard at making me feel good.

“It's okay …” I panted, stilling his hands against my body. “I don't know if I can tonight …”

“The rules,” was his only answer.

I let out a breath, feeling intimidated.

“Relax,” he said. “I'm just here for you.”

I nodded, and he went back to touching me in all the right ways. I closed my eyes and focused my attention on his hands, his mouth, and his soft breathing. At last the tightening began somewhere between my hips. My hands grasped at the sheet and came up empty. My back arched and my toes curled tight. A thin gasp escaped my lips once, twice, and on the third time stretched into a sound that only comes from one thing …

As soon as I could speak, I grabbed at Matt and got downright demanding. “Now, now, now.”

He complied eagerly and sighed against my ear when we were joined. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his mouth to mine. Pleasure was still rippling through my body and I wanted to make it last.

An unformed thought flickered through my mind as we moved together. Something about the contrast between Matt and my short list of other lovers. I let it go in favor of an empty mind and a very occupied body.

After, it was hard to breathe with his weight on me, but I didn't mind. He felt warm and familiar. I used my fingertips to follow the shape of his shoulder blades beneath his skin and found the slight hollow over his spine near the middle of his back. He wriggled away from my touch with a soft laugh.

“That tickles.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Are your roommates home?” he asked.

“I'm not sure.”

“So, walking naked to the bathroom would not be recommended?”

I laughed. “Uh, no.”

“That's a shame.” He sighed. “I'll be back in a minute.”

I slipped on pajama pants and a sweatshirt when he was gone and went to the kitchen to get something to drink. I'd had nothing but champagne and a vodka cranberry all night, and I was parched. Matt found me halfway through my second glass of water.

“You got dressed,” he observed.

“Remember that whole not-walking-naked-through-the-house thing?” I said, offering him my glass.

He took a grateful drink and refilled it from the pitcher in the refrigerator. “You know, technically, you've put an end to this … session by getting dressed.”

I lowered the waistband of my pants enough to show bare hip. “No underwear.”

He grinned. “Nice.”

We emptied the glass a few more times without talking, then Matt said, “I'm starving.”

“Pizza?” I suggested.

“Genius.”

We ordered a pizza and went back to my room to wait for it. I picked up my discarded clothes while Matt stretched out on the bed and flipped through the channels on my TV.

“How can you even see the screen on this TV, Joss?” He shaded his eyes and squinted at the small screen.

“It's six feet away. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.”

He fluttered his lashes at me and went back to channel surfing.

I scooped my bra off the floor and returned it carefully to my underwear drawer.

“So, seriously, do you always have sexy underwear on?” he asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

He looked dubious, but said, “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

I put my lacy panties into a lingerie bag hanging in the closet and climbed onto the bed next to him. “Oh, yeah, it's sexy twenty-four-seven around here. I mean, look at me.” I gestured to my oversized sweatshirt and plaid flannel pants.

“There's something to be said for easy access,” he countered, putting one hand inside the cavernous interior of the shirt.

A tap on the door was the only warning before it opened and my roommate Laurel looked in. “Hey, Joss, you ordered a pizza?” She did a double take. “What's going on?”

I sat up, and Matt let his hand slide out of my shirt. “Alex and I broke up.”

“Oh, no!” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” I shook my head. “Actually, I'm pissed.”

Laurel's face vacillated between curiosity, concern, and confusion. “So … what …?” She couldn't seem to figure out which question to ask.

“Is the pizza guy here?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“I got it,” Matt said, climbing over me to get off the bed.

“Wait, lemme give you some cash—” I started to follow him, but he stopped me with an upraised hand.

“You get the next one.” He squeezed past Laurel to go to the front door.

“Joss, what's going on?” she hissed as soon as he was out of earshot. “Are you okay?”

“I'm really fine. I'm just hangin' out with Matt. He … he's distracting me.” That was as good a description as any, I figured. I had only successfully explained Sorbet to two people, and Laurel was not one of them. I had unsuccessfully explained it to a handful of others. The usual reaction was an assumption that I'd had a one-night stand with a friend, or that I'd slept with a guy I barely knew, then realized we were better off as friends. Only my friends Kerry and Geena seemed to embrace the concept. Geena was, in fact, looking for a Sorbet Guy of her very own. Kerry had her doubts about how long we could sustain the agreement, but understood where it had come from.

Laurel squinted at me for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“I'm okay, Laur. Thanks.”

She nodded. “Okay, well … let me know if you need anything.” She disappeared from the doorway without further comment. Laurel and I were at opposite ends of the chain reaction that formed my house of four. I was friends with Kerry, who was friends with Lisa, who was friends with Laurel. I'd ended up in the place as a last-minute addition when another girl had backed out of the agreement. I didn't really mind; sometimes it's easier to live with people who aren't friends. The business-y aspect of sharing bills is less emotional.

Matt returned with the pizza, and we settled on the floor for our midnight snack. Kerry came home in the middle of it, and followed the smell of hot cheese and sauce to my door. When she saw who I was with, her eyes widened.

“You broke up with Alex?” she said.

“Listen to this.” I got the voice mail queued up and handed her the phone.

Her face went from calm to disgusted. “He broke up with you over voice mail?”

“Yeah.”

“I see why you're here,” she said to Matt.

“At your service.” He gave her a two-fingered salute.

“At her service,” Kerry corrected, nodding toward me.

I smiled and leaned close enough to Matt to rest my head on his shoulder. He gave me an affectionate scratch.

“Okay, this is officially the weirdest third-wheel position I've ever been in,” Kerry declared. “I'm going to bed.”

“Good night, Kerr,” I said.

“Good night,” Matt echoed.

“So, I guess I'll see you both in the morning,” she said with a look of amusement.

“Yep.”

She closed my bedroom door behind her as she left and we were alone again.

“You're taking this remarkably well,” Matt told me.

“I'm pretending it's not happening.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. Please stay.”

“It's in my contract.” He grinned. “Come on, let's go to bed.”

Sometime after four
A.M.
my cell phone rang. I figured it was either Alex or a wrong number. I wasn't interested either way. I stuffed the ringing phone under my pillow to muffle it, but Matt was already awake. He shifted and rolled, gathering most of the blankets around his body like a tortilla.

“Hey!” I protested quietly, pulling on the covers.

“Mmm, sorry …” he mumbled, rolling again to free up some real estate. “Who was on the phone?” In his half-asleep state, it came out, “Whosonnafnn?”

“Dunno.” I sighed.

“Okay?” he asked, stretching an arm across my stomach.

“Yeah.” I wiggled closer, landing myself in a cold section of previously unoccupied sheets. “Just … thinking.”

“That's not a good idea in the middle of the night.”

“I know.”

“What can I do?”

I moved closer and rested my palm against his chest, over his heart, then kissed him. “Is that okay?” I asked.

“Mmm hmm.”

Hours later, the sun finally penetrated my consciousness and I gave in to the waking world. Matt was still asleep beside me, mouth hanging open and a dried line of drool on his cheek. I couldn't help laughing, my voice a morning croak. His eyelids fluttered and he caught sight of me.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You were drooling.” I tapped his cheek.

“Oh, great.” He backhanded the offending mark and blinked at me. “Better?” I made a so-so gesture. He sighed and curled into a sitting position. “I'll be back.”

While Matt went to the bathroom to clean up, I dug out my cell phone to check for a message from the middle-of-the-night phone call. There was only one, and it was from Alex.

“Jocelyn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you that message. I don't even know what I was talking about. Can we just start over? Please call me. Please. I'm sorry I'm such an asshole sometimes. I don't want to mess this up. Call me, okay?”

I chewed on my lip, wondering what to do.

“What's wrong?” Matt asked when he came back to the room.

“I got a message from Alex.”

“Oh.” His expression was thoughtful and almost neutral. Almost. There was a touch of … something. Something negative.

“Just listen.” I set the message to replay and handed him the phone.