26
Friday
(Five Days Left)
“I can’t believe you’re getting fucked tonight and I’m not going to be there to see it,” Nora whines from my passenger seat. As luck would have it, Matthew lands just about an hour after Nora needs to be at the airport for her flight. It worked out perfectly for me to take her. “I’ve waited my whole life for this and I’m missing it by a few hours.”
“First of all, no one said anything about getting fucked tonight.” I do my best to keep my eyes on the road while fighting the urge to give her a look.
“Secondly, you wouldn’t be there to see it even if you were within the Los Angeles city limits.”
“Really?” she asks earnestly. “I’ve always pictured myself in the room.”
“Why would you be in the room?”
She shrugs. “That’s just how I’ve always pictured it.”
“Well, stop picturing it.”
“I can’t!” she exclaims. “Have you talked about where he’s sleeping?”
“Not yet,” I reply. “But I assume in my bed? It’s not like I’m going to make him sleep on the couch. And I want to sleep next to him, assuming he wants to sleep next to me.”
Nora throws her head forward onto the dashboard. “Of course he wants to sleep in your bed, Phoebe! He’s flying across the country to see you. He wants to do a whole lot more than sleep.”
“He hasn’t even kissed me yet.”
“What’s he waiting for?”
“I think he’s nervous,” I tell her. “Especially considering the disaster that was the last time we almost kissed.”
“You guys really are perfect for each other,” she declares. “When you’re having a freak-out, he’s all calm, cool, and collected, and now he’s being weird and you’re the chillest I’ve ever seen you. It’s awesome.”
“It is awesome,” I agree.
Nora hops right out of the car the second we pull up to the airport.
Knowing her, after yesterday’s emotional goodbye, she’s anxious to make this one as quick and painless as possible. I put the car in park and get out to help her with her things.
“I love you.” I throw my arms around her. She holds on to me tightly, telling me everything I need to know all while not saying a word.
“Call me as soon as you finish.” Those are the only words she says to me before turning around and walking into the terminal.
It’s not until I start driving away that I understand what she meant.
I’ll miss her so much.
—
I see him before he sees me.
Matthew’s bouncing up and down on one foot, nervously scanning the sea of cars fighting to merge in and out of the pick-up lane as they collect their passengers. He looks adorable with his hands in the pockets of his sweats, a duffel bag draped across his chest, and his hair peeking out from the bottom of a baseball cap. It’s all I can do not to leave my car in the middle of five lanes and run to him. I maneuver as quickly and as close to the curb as I can before throwing my door open and rushing toward him.
“Hey, you!” I throw myself into his side and wrap my arms around him. I feel him startle. “Sorry.” I smirk, tilting my head upward to meet his eyes.
They’re creased around the edges from smiling.
He quickly removes his hands from his pockets, untangling my arms from him for a second before pulling me back in. His hands bury themselves in the
mess of my hair while he leans down and presses his cheek to the top of my head. “Hey, you,” he whispers.
I can feel my heartbeat at the base of my stomach. If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
A chorus of car horns distracts me from the heat rippling through my core, and I turn my head toward the source of the chaos. An empty car with its door open has started to slowly roll backward into the onslaught of parked cars and oncoming traffic.
“Oh no,” I whisper. I’ve become paralyzed.
Matthew’s grip around me loosens. “Is that yours?”
I think I nod.
He springs into action, reaching my car in just a few long strides and throwing it into park in the nick of time.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Sorry!” He waves apologetically to the line of cars my Jetta almost took out.
I keep my eyes glued to the ground as I make my way over to him. “I swear that hasn’t happened before.”
I can tell he’s doing his best to suppress a grin. “Want me to drive?” he offers.
I’m still a little shaky from the adrenaline, and the honking of another
horn makes me jump.
“Maybe.”
He slips into the driver’s seat without another word, throwing his bag into the back and adjusting the seat to accommodate his long legs.
“I’m usually a really good driver,” I tell him as we pull out of the airport, loading up the directions on my phone to our official first-date spot. “I got too excited.”
“I’m sure I would have done the same thing,” he assures me.
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
“Probably not,” he agrees, finally letting himself smile at me. I would be embarrassed if it were anyone else.
“Well?” He gives me an expectant look out of the corner of his eye while I watch him intently. Everything about him driving my car turns me on. The way he grips the steering wheel with one hand, the way his arms flex slightly whenever he makes a turn, the way he merges from lane to lane effortlessly. I close my legs together tightly, worried that he’ll somehow be able to sense what he’s doing to me.
“Well what?” I ask, forcing myself to ignore the ache between my thighs.
“Your interview!” he exclaims excitedly. “How was it?”
“Oh!” Between the excitement of dropping Nora off and picking Matthew up, I had completely forgotten about my interview with Dan earlier today.
Matthew had been helping me prep for it all week over FaceTime.
“It was good! I got offered the job.”
“Phoebe!” He reaches over the center console and wraps his hand around the nape of my neck. I suck in a sharp breath. “That’s incredible,” he says.
“You’re incredible.”
I close my eyes and brace myself for his disappointment. “I didn’t take it.”
He runs his thumb along my neck and I open my eyes to find him biting his lip, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“You’re mad.”
“Of course not.” He shakes his head. “I feel guilty.”
“What? Why would you feel guilty?”
He removes his hand from my neck to scratch his own. I want to reach out and snatch it back. “I’m a bad person.”
“You’re the best person.”
“I could tell that you didn’t want that job. I think I just encouraged you to take the interview so that maybe you’d keep coming to me for advice. Advice that I’m not at all qualified to be giving, by the way.”
I give in to my impulses and grab his hand, holding it tightly on my lap.
“Do you think I’m innocent? Why do you think I was going to you for advice?”
He laughs, and I watch the muscles in his jaw twitch as they loosen with relief. I want to lean over and lick his jawline.
What is happening to me?
I spend the rest of the drive facing forward with my legs crossed, trying my best not to look directly at him.
—
I’ve made Matthew try every food stand the Santa Monica Pier has to offer.
So far we’ve split a bucket of popcorn, sour apple cotton candy, a fried Oreo milkshake, and a jalapeño corn dog. Everything was extremely gross and perfect at the same time.
“Are you sure this is a good idea after everything we ate?” he asks. We’re standing in line for the pier’s only roller coaster, if you can even call it that.
“I’m positive,” I tell him. “It’s for kids. Look.” I point to the sign hanging from the fence alongside the ride. “You only have to be thirty-six inches to ride. That’s, like, very tiny. And it’s about thirty seconds from start to finish.”
“I’m not asking for me.” He takes a bite of our corn dog before offering it to me. “You’re the one with the weak stomach,” he says with a smirk.
I feign offense. “Wow, I never expected you to use that against me.” I start walking away from him. “Let’s go. I’m taking you back to the airport.”
“No!” He pulls me back by my arm, spinning me into his chest. “I’ll be good.” I feel his chest rise and fall as he looks down at me through his
eyelashes and my heart begins to race.
He blinks.
I blink.
He licks his bottom lip.
I bite mine.
He lifts his hand to my cheek and— “Teacher Phoebe?” I turn sharply toward the voice at my left, jumping back from Matthew on instinct.
Danny and his mom are walking toward us, his mom with an apologetic gleam in her eye.
“Hi, Danny!” I crouch down and give him a hug. “What a fun surprise!”
I have never been less excited to see one of my students before.
He squints as he looks back and forth between me and Matthew.
“Where’s Teacher Finn?” he asks.
“I’m not sure what Teacher Finn is doing tonight.” I shrug. “We can ask him about his weekend on Monday.”
“But who is that?” He points directly at Matthew, who offers an awkward
wave in response.
“That’s Matthew,” I tell him.
This doesn’t seem to clear anything up for Danny, but his mom cuts him off before he can ask another question.
“Give Teacher Phoebe a hug goodbye,” she tells him. “We’ll see her at school next week.”
As they walk away, I can faintly hear Danny continue his line of questioning while his mom tries to distract him with cotton candy.
I raise myself up from my crouched position and hurry back over to Matthew, anxious to continue what we started.
“That was really cute.” He smiles, but his expression turns into something unreadable as he leans back against the fence. “Who’s Finn?” he asks, shrugging as he takes another bite of the corn dog.
Danny has completely killed the mood.
“Finn is the fourth-grade teacher,” I tell him. “We spend a lot of time with their class.”
“I get the sense that Danny thinks you two are a package deal.”
“Yeah, well,” I sigh. “Danny is five years old and also thinks that one plus one is eleven.” I smile softly at Matthew. “I promise you, there is absolutely nothing to worry about there.”
“I’m not worried.” He reaches his hands out for mine. “Just insanely jealous that someone else gets to spend that much time with you.”
I don’t even try to hide the ridiculous grin that spreads across my face.
“Next!” The ride operator ushers the next group of riders through the gate. We’re the last two to make it on.
Matthew scans over the track ahead of us as we buckle our seatbelts.
“This doesn’t look like a ride for kids.” He points to a spot on the rail that
curves to the side. “That’s basically upside down.”
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” I assure him as the ride begins to inch forward.
The second we pick up speed, Matthew grabs my knee. And less than a minute later, when we get to the slight right turn that he described as “basically upside down,” I feel his entire body tense beside me.
“You okay?” I steal a glance in his direction. His face has turned a sickly shade of green. “Oh no.”
“I’m fine.” I can barely hear his whisper over the sound of the ride.
“Totally fine.” His grip on me tightens.
As soon as we come to a halt, I yank him off the ride and lead him toward an empty space behind an abandoned street cart. I reach into my tote and hand him my barf bag. “Here. Let it out.”
He takes it from my hands wordlessly and does just that.
Not even the sight of him heaving up our entire boardwalk buffet is enough to dull my feelings for him. In fact, there’s something vulnerable about the way he’s hunching over a paper bag that makes me want him more.
I’m sick.
I am a sick person.
Matthew groans as he lowers himself to the ground, leaning his back against the cart and sticking his head between his knees.
“Better?” I ask, sitting down next to him.
When he rolls his head over to face me, I’m relieved to see that some of the color has returned to his face. “I really, really wish you didn’t have to see that.”
I scooch closer to him and place my hand on his back. “I’m just glad it was you and not me.” After everything that I’ve put myself through, Matthew puking in front of me before I got the chance to do it in front of him is
nothing short of a miracle.
“It was the corn dog,” he whispers.
I continue rubbing his back while he gets himself together. “It was the corn dog,” I assure him, despite having eaten the exact same thing and keeping it down.
Eventually, he stands up and pulls me off the ground with him. “Do you have gum in that bag of yours?” he asks.
“Yes, but I can do you one better.” I pull out my water bottle and the little pouch where I keep my emergency toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m always prepared for the worst.”
He accepts everything graciously, looking at me so affectionately that I have to break eye contact. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Thank you for being the first of us to yack.”
He takes a dramatic bow before he starts brushing his teeth.
“And just for the record…” he says through a mouth full of toothpaste, spitting the excess onto the ground.
Sexy. This must be how Ethan feels about Jamie.
“…you could throw your Frosted Flakes up all over me and I wouldn’t care. You’re so hard on yourself, but you could completely lose it in front of me and I’d never think any less of you.”
Oh.
My eyes begin to sting.
I don’t think there is a single quote from any book, line from any movie, or lyric to any song that will ever mean as much to me as what Matthew just said. I stare at him through my cloudy vision, watching him move through the motions of brushing his teeth as if he didn’t just deliver the most groundbreakingly romantic speech I’ve ever heard in my life.
I lose all my patience. I pluck the toothbrush out of his hand, drop it to the ground, and throw my hands around his neck so I can pull his lips to mine.
The kiss is soft and minty and everything I’ve always wanted. Matthew lifts his hand to my cheek, and I can feel his thumb swiping back and forth over a tear. I pull away for a second and whisper against his mouth, “Thank you.”
His eyes turn dark and needy under his glasses. He bobs his head up and down swiftly, a quick acknowledgment, before his lips come crashing back down onto mine. If that first kiss was slow and tender, this one is anything but. His mouth is hungry against mine as he pulls me as close to him as I can
get. He runs his tongue against my bottom lip and my hands instinctively crawl up his neck and bury themselves in his hair.
I need to get closer to him.
I tug him down to the ground by his shirt and press him against the empty street cart without breaking our kiss. He pulls me onto his lap, brushing my curls to the side so that he can get access to my neck. He nips at the skin above my collarbone and I let out a sound that I’ve never made before.
I startle myself.
“Oh god.” I untangle myself from Matthew’s lap and move to stand up.
My legs feel like Jell-O.
He grabs my wrists and drags me back down next to him. “Don’t go,” he whimpers.
I fall back against the cart so that our sides are pressed up against each other. “I just thought about Danny,” I confess, still breathless.
“Who’s Danny?” he asks. His brow is furrowed with concern, but it’s hard to notice anything other than how adorably flushed his cheeks are and how his hair is mussed up in one hundred different directions. I reach out to smooth it down.
“The kid. My student. What if he and his mom walked by?”
“They didn’t,” he assures me, placing his hand on my thigh.
“I know, but can you imagine?” I cringe, standing up and offering my hand. “Come home with me.”
He nods excitedly while adjusting his position on the ground. “I just need a second.” He looks everywhere but at me.
“No rush,” I tell him, even though I really would prefer to get a move on and fast.
I have never needed anything more than I need Matthew Baxter in my bed.
—
“I can’t look at you,” I tell him while staring out the window of the passenger side. “You have to stop doing all that.” I make a vague, sweeping gesture over his hands gripping the steering wheel and the arms they’re connected to.
“You asked me to drive,” he says, laughing. “I can’t just take my hands off the wheel.”
I sigh. “You can at least take one hand off.”
He lifts his right hand from the wheel and places it on my thigh. “Better?”
My skin tingles so fiercely beneath his fingers that it’s hard to believe there’s any fabric separating us. “So much worse.” I pick up his hand and begin twisting his ring for a distraction.
“I’m excited for you to meet Jonathan in person,” I tell him as we get closer to my apartment. “I think you two will really hit it off.”
“I’m nervous,” he admits. “It feels like meeting your family.” Matthew and Jonathan met over FaceTime last week, when the three of us spent the better part of an hour trying to come up with the perfect answers to the prompts for Jonathan’s new Hinge profile. It seems that with every passing day, Jonathan grows more comfortable in his own skin.
“Yeah, I guess he is my family,” I agree. “But you already met my family family at the wedding, and you were great. And Jonathan is far more normal than them.”
“Yeah, but this time is different because I’m meeting him as your…” He
trails off midsentence.
“As my…”
He eyes me apprehensively. “As your invited guest.”
I cackle. “My invited guest,” I repeat. “I guess that works.”
For now.
We turn onto my street and I direct Matthew into the garage. He navigates my parking spot with an ease I haven’t even come close to after living here for two years.
“So, this is my garage.” I begin to label every landmark in the immediate vicinity.
It’s possible that I might be nervous, too.
“This is our dumpster. This is the gate to our apartment that doesn’t lock.
That’s the front door.”
I freeze in place as I reach in my bag for my keys. “Oh no.”
“What?” Matthew asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you hear that?” I place my ear against the door and he does the same.
“Voices?” he asks.
“It’s an ambush,” I tell him. “I think my friends are in there.”
“That’s okay,” he assures me. “I can handle it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He gestures for me to open the door. The voices on the other side go quiet as I turn my key in the lock and walk inside. Matthew follows from behind.
Jonathan, Alex, and Meg are huddled around the dining room table with a deck of cards. In the twelve or so years that I’ve known them, not once have I seen any of them play cards. Not even a round of Go Fish. I can’t imagine
which one of them even had the deck.
“Hello!” Meg greets us cheerfully.
“It’s great to see you,” Alex says to one of us or both of us, I’m not really sure. It’s oddly formal either way.
“You’re home!” Jonathan pushes his chair back from the table and stands up.
I pull Matthew deeper into the room. “Matthew, this is Jonathan, Alex, and Meg.” I point to each of them respectively, even though I know he already knows who’s who. “Everyone, this is Matthew.” I pause. “My invited guest.”
Matthew takes a step forward. “Hey, guys,” he says while waving. “It’s great to finally meet everyone. I’ve heard so much about you all.”
Jonathan walks over and sticks out his hand. “It really is so nice to officially meet you,” he says earnestly while giving Matthew one of those bro-hug pats on the back.
Alex gives him a hug that goes on for a second too long.
Meg asks routine questions about his trip and his jet lag until I cut her off.
“We’re going to go upstairs to put Matthew’s stuff down. Enjoy your cards.” I turn back to them as we make our way up the steps. “Who’s winning, by the way?”
“It’s not a winning sort of game,” Alex says.
“Jonathan,” Meg answers at the same time.
Jonathan shrugs guiltily.
I smile back at him and pull Matthew up the stairs by his hand.
“Nice meeting everyone!” he calls down the stairs one last time for good measure.
I close my bedroom door behind us and lock it just in case.
“Your friends are great,” Matthew tells me while doing a quick scan of my room. “And I can tell how much they love you.”
That makes me smile.
So does the sight of Matthew in my room.
“This is my room,” I tell him.
“So it is.” Matthew raises an eyebrow. “The room where it happens.”
“Was that a Hamilton reference?”
“It was.” He nods, looking smug.
“You’ve been listening to my playlists.”
“Of course I have.”
We begin walking toward each other, cautiously. The air between us feels more charged than it did in the car or on the pier. For the first time, I notice that my bed takes up most of my room. I sit down on the edge of it. I motion for Matthew to do the same.
“I can’t believe you flew across the country for our first date.” I shake my head in disbelief. “And I repaid you by stuffing you with the grossest food imaginable and forcing you on a ride that basically went upside down.”
“Don’t remind me,” he says, chuckling. “Actually, do. It was the best first
date I’ve ever been on.”
“You’re lying.”
He raises his hand. “I swear on it.”
I frown. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time not kissing you when I could have been kissing you.”
“Well”—he takes my hand and begins tracing small circles around my thumb—“we’re here now. And we’ll just have to make up for lost time.”
I raise my eyebrows invitingly. “How are we going to do th—”
His lips are on mine before I can finish my question.
