“This is delicious.” My conversation skills are seriously lacking.
Cole chokes on his forkful of trout and waves me off when I push his water glass closer. I’m not in the mood for mouth to mouth, but I can’t stand by while the guy chokes.
As far as first dates go, this sucks ass. The cute banter, the innocent flirting, everything—it falls flat. There’s no sizzle, and it’s my fault. It’s hard to share yourself when you’re not willing to give up everything you have. Namely, my heart. Cheesy, sure, but it’s already occupied and not by Cole.
“What are you doing for spring break?” he asks once he recovers.
I sort of want to drown in my wineglass right now. Scratch that, I want to down a whole bottle of wine. I’ll deal with the epic hangover tomorrow. If this new year has taught me anything, it’s to take things a day at a time.
Be nice, be nice, be nice.
“Working, I think.”
“Not going back to Maine?”
“Not for this break. I’m spending the summer in Maine. I’m going to soak up as much freedom as I can before then.” I scoop up a forkful of smashed parsnip and take a bite. He’s watching me closely, his eyes filled with a soft appreciation. That’s when guilt hits me. Well, hits isn’t the right word. It all but knocks me over, like a snowplow barreling down a street of mailboxes during a whiteout.
BAM.
I shouldn’t be here when I’m only thinking about Beau. His birthday surprise to me? I could have wrapped myself up in him and those blankets for a few days easily. It was perfect. He’s perfect. We’re perfectly imperfect together.
You can’t keep going out with Cole when you wish it was Beau.
“I’m supposed to be touring this summer. We have some gigs lined up.”
I nod again. I can’t think of anything to say.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m really sorry for kissing you in that bar. I didn’t mean to surprise you like that.”
It’s almost been a month, and I still can’t get over how awful that night was. How utterly boring, yet traumatic, that kiss was. How I went back to the bungalow and had the most heart-wrenching make-out session with Beau for the rest of the night. It was a strange goodbye that never stuck.
“I didn’t mind, Matisse.” He glances around the restaurant before his attentions returns to me. “You were the first girl I kissed after Ivy. It just threw me off.”
“You were serious with her, weren’t you?
“We were high school sweethearts. I transferred to Portland to be with her. We moved in together. I even planned a vacation to Italy this summer. I’d been saving up for an engagement ring.”
“That’s really shitty, Cole. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “I’m over it.”
At least I’m not the only one lying to myself. This table is crowded with four, even if the rest of the restaurant sees only the two of us sitting here.
“This is a really nice dinner.” I even sound half-convincing. “Thank you.”
Cole drums his knife over the table and sighs. “You’re welcome, Matisse. I hope you’re having a good birthday. Maybe we should go out after and go to some bars or something fun…” His voice trails off when he catches me fidgeting again.
He knocks the knife against his plate and clears his throat, meeting my startled gaze across the table “Listen. I like you a lot. I have ever since you called me a dick.” We both laugh, but I can’t fight off this sinking feeling in my stomach. His voice is heavy with pity. “I like you a lot, Matisse, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
This is where I be a good girl and apologize, right? This is where I confess that I’ve been stupid and that I feel however he feels because I shouldn’t hurt him. I was taught to be polite, and Cole is a really good guy.
I should feel guilty, but I feel dirty instead. I’ve failed someone again.
I set my fork down, no longer hungry. “No, I don’t think so either.” I should regret these words, but I don’t. It feels strangely liberating to do what I want for a change instead of following that plan of mine. I can’t believe we’re breaking up or moving on or whatever this awkward exchange is in a restaurant because how cliché is that? “You’re a great guy, Cole…”
“Don’t say it,” he says. “I meant it when I said I liked you. I might be in love with you. If we’re going to end things here, you can be honest. I want you to be.”
I play with the bracelets circling my wrists, nervous energy buzzing through me. “Love is a big word.”
“You’re a force of nature, Matisse.” He scrubs his hand over his face, then drops it to reveal a sad, all-knowing smile. “There aren’t words for a girl like you. You’re be a flurry of notes on the piano or a mad riff on the guitar. Music that sweeps a person away from reality.”
It hurts to hear, especially when I know it’s not a mistake to walk away. “Can we still be friends or is that going to be weird?”
“Maybe in a few weeks.”
I flag down the waitress for the check. “I understand.” I do—I’m shitty for dragging him along when I was never truly single to begin with. If I’m honest, I’ve been feeling something for Beau way longer than our time together in December, something deeper than lust.
Kissing Beau, next to painting, is everything to me. I want him in my life, only not as a roommate or a hookup. I want Beau in every part of my life—my ugly confessions and my shitty days. I want him there when I break down and cry. I want him there when I’m happy. I want to know what it feels like to be together, in a relationship. I want that intimacy that comes from finally shedding the pretend boundaries we’ve drawn for ourselves and letting each other in
That’s what I want, and I’m tired of feeling sorry for wanting something I shouldn’t. I’m tired of letting everyone else tell me what I need. So screw the rules, screw my parents, screw my plan of living without distractions.
We square up for dinner, and I give Cole a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for understanding. I know you’re mad…”
“I’m not mad.” He hugs me tight. “You don’t owe me anything, Matt. Happy birthday.”
Cole walks away after that, his head hung low, while I jump in a cab to see about a boy.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Matisse
My umbrella is still clutched in my hand, even as the sky spits down a heavy mist. It coats my hair and skin, its cool drops beading on my eyelashes. Thank God for waterproof mascara.
I feel like a mess.
The cab dropped me off a few block away so I could walk home. I need to wrap my head around a few things.
Because the truth is, no matter how hard he tries to look the part of the bad boy¸ Beau Grady is a really good guy. A good friend. A great kisser. And a terrible, horrible roommate to have when I’m so hopelessly his.
I slip off my heels when I step inside the front door, my feet screaming in relief to be flat on the ground again. My stomach is heavy with failure at a disappointing birthday, at possibly losing two people in my life because I can’t get out of my own way.
A light flicks on in Beau’s room, pouring out around the shadow of the nearly closed door. The yellow bar grows larger when he draws his door open, his silhouette filling the doorway.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” I try to make my hello cheery, but it’s so unsteady. At least it’s dark. It’s hard to make out his face, and that’s a small mercy.
“Have fun?” His voice is soft. I hear the hesitancy there, as if the words are poisoning him to say.
No. “Sure.”
He doesn’t answer, and that’s enough. That’s what ends up breaking me—his silence when I lie.
I slump against the wall and drop my bag at my feet. “I can’t do this anymore, Beau. He’s a great guy. And it was a nice date.” I slide down the wall, burying my head in my hands. “But I can’t. I can’t go out with him anymore. Not when…I only want you.”
Beau
I only want you.
Her words echo around me. A rush of air crushes out of my lungs. “What?”
Mati folds into herself on the floor.
“Mati.”
She grips her knees tighter. “Pretend I didn’t say that,” she whispers. “Pretend I’m not here. Pretend you don’t know me.”
“No.” It’s like hearing my heart, then having it taken out and being told to remember the sound of its beating to be able to keep living. She can’t take those words back. I cup the back of her head, bending down in front of her. My knees rest against her toes, kneeling over her on the floor. “Mati, you’re going to need to repeat that last part because I’m not sure I heard you right.”
“You didn’t.” She peeks up from behind her elbow, her eyes wide and uncertain.
I cradle her face in my palm, warming up her chilled cheek. “You’re wet,” I say. I’m not sure why I state the obvious.
She nods, closing her eyes as I wipe away the rain with the pad of my thumb.
“What did you say?” I sound like I’m begging, and I don’t fucking care at this point. I’ll do anything to hear those words again. I’m starving for them.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” She’s so close; I don’t want her to slip away again. I want a chance to make this work.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to date Cole.”
“No one said you had to.”
“I did. I told myself I had to because he’s a good guy. And you know, maybe that’s what I need.” She waves her hand around, brushing away her importance when I don’t answer. “But it doesn’t matter.”
I can’t do this. I can’t sit and listen to her degrade herself. “Stop saying that.”
She shakes her head again, refusing to look me in the eye.
“Tell me what you said earlier.”
Mati shuts her eyes, closing me out.
“No?” I frame her face in my hands and circle her temples, waiting for some reaction—anything. “Then I’ll remind you.”
I lean down and kiss her. My mouth slants over hers, taking in her surprise. She curls her hands into my hair as I gather her closer. My tongue caresses the corner of her mouth until she lets me in.
“Why can’t I have you?” she whispers against my mouth when we break apart.
She has had me. She still does.
I strip her out of her coat, kissing her, not saying a word. My lips trail down her neck until her head falls back against the wall, her breaths short like mine. She wants me and I want her, and I’m a bit frantic, pulling at the neckline of her shirt to expose her shoulder.
She’s soft against my lips as I lick the gentle curve by her collarbone, then nip at the skin, taking her in. Fuck. I want all of her. She sighs my name, guiding my hands to the edge of her shirt. I peel it off and toss it behind us.
We fall clumsily back against the wall, kneeling, moving faster, caught up in each other. Mati straddles my lap, her hands greedy to touch me. She rocks against me, rubbing her fingers between us.
It sets me on fire. Holy fuck.
I try to keep up, try to push past the wall of exhaustion barreling down on me because I refuse to let it win tonight. I cup her breast in my hand, drawing my thumb in slow circles until she starts to pant.
But I freeze and sink back. There’s more I needed to say. I need to focus, get some space to clear my head. I drop my hand, remove my lips and my touch from her. I focus on drawing air in my lungs, on my drumming heartbeat, on how I feel so completely overwhelmed in the best way possible. I’m back on that earthy bank again, staring up at the endless blue above, lost to its endlessness.
“I got a little carried away,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Sorry.”
Mati stiffens, not moving from my lap. I wait too long to do something, to prove to her that that isn’t all, that I’m not done. We’ve barely started. She reaches around me and grabs her shirt from the floor, ready to run.
I push to my knees, not letting go. I cradle her body against me, smiling a little when she gasps. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I hold her tight, walking us into my bedroom. I slam the door shut with my foot, not caring if we wake anyone up.
My bed is torn apart, the mattress still used as the floor of the blanket fort, lit up with lights. I lower us inside, levering over Mati while I get lost in those eyes of hers, those lips that are swollen.
“You were right, I’m an asshole, Mati. I’m a jerk and I can’t figure out what I want in anything, except—” A slow smile spreads across my lips. “—I didn’t think you wanted me, too.” She opens her mouth, but for once I don’t want to avoid this. These maybes have been killing us. “Let me finish.”
She laughs beneath my hand over her mouth, and I cave, ducking down to press a kiss against her forehead until the silliness dies away.
“I want you, but as much as I want to strip you down and take you right now,” I say, pausing to wink, “you mean more to me than a one-night stand. I want to do this right. I want to take you on a date. You deserve that.”
We deserve a real chance.
She kisses my fingertips until I sink down against her, my eyes pinned to hers. I swore I wasn’t going to let this happen, and here I am, taking a huge fucking risk for a girl because I can’t breathe without her.
“Stay,” I whisper, taking her bottom lip between my teeth. She tastes so sweet. I want this to last forever. “Please, stay.”
Matisse
As if I could ever leave. I don’t think my legs even work. Beau Grady just seduced me with his desire to take things slowly. And I laugh a little more because that’s the last thing the two of us want.
I reach for his shirt and tug at his shoulders. He lifts his arms out so I can slide it off of him. “You can still take me out to dinner, but we can have sex before food. I don’t mind.”
His lips come down by my ear, and he licks that small spot behind it, on my neck. It’s fucking heaven. My eyes find my painting on his wall of the birch forest in winter through the opening in the blankets surrounding us, and if it’s even possible, I start melting inside.
“You don’t mind?” His lips tease my shoulder, then his teeth slowly graze over the bend. I rush to catch my breath.
I shake my head and reach for his jeans. “Not at all.”
I’m distracted when his hands reach down and trace the lace between my breasts. This is the prettiest bra I own, and I wasn’t wearing it for him tonight. I panic a bit and wonder if he thinks the same, but he stands to kick off his jeans, then bends and presses his mouth over the curve of my breasts.
My heart is beating so wildly that I wonder if he can feel it against his mouth.
“Hey, Mati?” His whisper hums over my body, the warmth of his breath makes my body arch off the bed, trying to close the distance between us.
I kiss below his collarbone, loving the salty taste of his skin. My hand curls over his shoulders and tug, drawing him down.
“You’re in my bed,” he says.
A soft chuckle escapes both of us. It’s cute, but I’m not in the mood for cute. “So what are you going to do now? Now that I’m here in your bed.” When he doesn’t answer, I whisper knowingly, “I’ll give you a hint. Get me naked.”
The quiet tension suddenly breaks, and we’re desperate again, like out in the hallway. I push up onto my elbows while he unhooks my bra because clearly we have our priorities straight for once.
My fingers run over his front, grazing over his hipbones before I catch his waistband and tug at his boxers.
“Lift your arms up, baby.”
I do, but I still, forgetting the rest of everything. That’s one pet name I don’t think I mind, and strangely it’s the one that draws me back down to earth to wallow in the doubt I’ve been crushing down inside of me.
Beau slowly slips off my bra, but his face has fallen, too. He tosses it to the floor, then leans his forehead against mine. “I forgot, sorry. I should keep my mouth shut.”
“You
should keep talking. I like it…especially when you talk dirty.”
The sexiest grin I have ever seen on his face spreads and breaks about the same time my heart hammers hard against my chest. Boom.
“Then what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I laugh, feeling like an idiot. Leave it to me to mess this up. We were so close to doing the right thing for once. “You surprised me.”
“That’s it?”
I lean up and kiss him, deeply. If I get too caught up in my head, I might not keep going, and I want that more than anything. I want his body moving over mine, sinking inside me, making me believe that opening your heart to another is worth the time.
I need to believe that because, if I don’t, I’m going to be an old woman at twenty-one, afraid to live outside of the box. Afraid to find pleasure in things outside of the plan. There has to be more to life than plans and to-do lists.
I’m surprised how his mouth doesn’t fight mine, how he kisses me like some stealthy ninja, always a step ahead. His tongue twists around my mouth, and just when I think I might drown in the way he tastes, he licks the underside of my upper lip. I sigh against his lips, a hot current racing through my body.
I push against his chest, but fight to keep his lips on mine. We both chuckle and I like that, too, that we can both laugh during sex.
I’m waiting for the inevitable. I’m waiting to feel shy or embarrassed. I’m waiting for the urge to pretend to creep up on me, but I don’t think I need to pretend with Beau.
He thumbs my nipple in a searing sweep, and my head falls back. When he draws it into his mouth and slowly moves his tongue in a circle, I sink into the mattress.
I won’t have to pretend with him. I can’t even remember what I was doing two seconds ago.
“Beau.”
“Hmm?”
His hand run down my body, and for once I don’t miss the fact that I don’t have many curves. The way they sweep over my hips makes me forget that stupid hang-up. His touch isn’t anything like I imagined. It’s not greedy or demanding; it’s not rushed or clumsy. They move with deadly precision, as though he’s studied my body for months and knows what I like. And I like that, too.
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