He’s such a jackass.
“Nice to meet you,” she says with a small wave. If she minds I just publically labeled us, she doesn’t give a clue. In fact, Mati leans back into my shoulder. Her hair brushes against my cheek.
“You weren’t at practice the other day,” Smith says, never acknowledging Mati. This pisses me off. Not to mention they’re standing around, interrupting our date.
“No.” I don’t owe Smith an explanation. I was having a shitty day and barely made it to class. Lacing up skates and chasing after a team of kids wasn’t in the cards. Coach understood, but Smith and the others, who smirk back like they know the truth, are total shitheads for wanting to start trouble.
Luckily, our plate of wings arrive and they go on their way. But I don’t like the way Mati follows their exit, how she’s holding tight on my hand. I have to tell her. I have to tell her because I don’t want her believing the rumors.
The mood after that interruption is a bit different. Mati and I joke around and she tries to get her sticky hands all over my face, but still I’m stuck. My confession is making it hard to swallow. It’s there, waiting to burst out my lips.
I want her to stay. I want her… I want.
Damn, I want Mati Evans to love me.
***
Mati insists on walking off our dinner after we finish. It’s chilly, but she’s a New England girl through and through.
“I wear flip-flops until it snows,” she says, reaching for my hand. “I’ll tell you if I get too cold.”
I zip up her coat anyway. I know she won’t want to hear my lecture on her just having had pneumonia. She’d probably give me the same one because she doesn’t take any of my shit.
We walk by the river, hand in hand at first, until I tuck her close against me. Then Mati stops and faces me, wrapping her arms tight around my neck. “You know how to woo a girl, Beau Grady. Beer and wings. It was a great date.”
She kisses me before I can laugh.
I rest my forehead against hers when we finally break apart. Her fingers play at the shaved sides of my hair, soft strokes that work like magic, drawing out the truth.
“I have to tell you something,” I confess in a whisper. She bumps her nose against mine, pulling me in tighter. I freeze.
“Beau?” She draws away, framing my face with her chilled hands. Her fingers run over my cheekbones, studying me. “What is it?”
I swear I’m back in that river, the water burning my lungs, the air impossibly beyond my reach.
“I’m sick, Mati.” The words leave me in a heavy crush. I’m shaking, or maybe she is. And it’s hot. I might throw up if I don’t step away.
“Hey,” she says, pulling me closer. She kisses the hollow at my throat, her hands clasped tight at the back of my neck. “Tell me.” Somehow those two words keep me in place. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”
It’s not okay. I’m not okay. Fuck.
The sunlight fades, and I sink deeper. The world gets cold, darker, and the little air I have left in my lungs crushes out of me. I’m desperate for another breath.
“I have MS, Mati.”
Matisse
Beau’s confession rings in my ears. It echoes inside of me as I struggle to process what this means. Why his eyes are suddenly red and his words are so clumsy.
I know what he said is bad. MS is bad. I know he has more than a cold, but somehow the information short-circuits my surprise. “Tell me more.”
Beau draws in a shaky breath. I never knew oxygen could have an edge, but I swear the intake that passes over his lips stabs me in the heart.
“Hey,” I whisper. I pull his lips down to mine for another long, deep kiss. Maybe words aren’t what we need right now; maybe our lips and our hands and our bodies will have to do. I kiss him for a long time, until the edges of us blur and my lips are swollen and my cheeks are wet. I’m not sure if it’s from my tears or his, but when I draw back, I kiss his cheeks anyway. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Tell me.”
His dark brows are furrowed as if he doesn’t believe me. He shuffles back and forth, rocking us in a nervous sway. If he keeps it up, I might be sick. Or maybe the world is just spinning because, if what he said is true, life sucks and it isn’t fair.
“Two years ago, I started having headaches and my hands would go numb. I ignored it. Then one morning, I was running late for practice and couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t move my legs. I went to the ER and had a bunch of tests done. My parents came down to stay with me, and then the doctor walked in one afternoon while I sat on the examine table and said, ‘Well, it’s not cancer.’”
I wait for him to finish, biting back a million questions. Biting back this massive fear that what I found is going to be ripped away from me.
“The sick fuck had the nerve to smile at that because it was good news to him. Then he rushed out that I had multiple sclerosis and started talking about my options for treatment. He didn’t stop for questions, not once. I had to sit there and listen, but all I heard was white noise, Mati. My future is gone because I’m sick and I can’t fucking stand myself. And I didn’t know how to tell you or when or… Shit, I’m messing this up, too.”
I’m not sure there ever was a good time to tell me, but I’m not going to hold it against him like he believes. “This was your story to tell when you were ready.” I tap his chin with my cold hand and kiss him softly on the lips. “And I’m glad you told me.”
His arms wrap around me, crushing my body to his. I don’t know what to do other than stand here and be with him and show him that I’m not going to run away. So I stay put and wait and listen.
“I didn’t think you’d want me,” he goes on. “Why would you? I didn’t want to get close to you because I’ve never had to tell anyone besides Noah. Everyone else knew because they were there, and I thought…” He sucks in another shaky breath. “I’m not good enough for you, Mati.”
“Don’t say that.” I push back a bit, determination winning over my patience.
“I can’t even tell you right. You can ask me things, you can… There are people you can talk to if it’s too much. You can walk away, too. I get it.”
A light rain spits from the sky, and the chill sinks in along with the reality of things.
“What do you need from me?” I ask. Beau blinks a few times, not breaking the silence that’s crept between us. “Does it hurt? What can I do? Tell me what to do.”
“I don’t…” He rubs his hands over my arms, noticing my shiver.
I can brave the cold; I can do a lot in the face of the impossible. At least Beau’s shown me that. I can do the same for him if he’ll let me.
My body trembles again as I lean forward and give him a slow kiss. “I like you, Beau. A lot. More than… You’re an amazing person, and when you’re not being a jerk…” I pause when he smirks. “…you’re a great friend, and I’m not going to run away because you mean a lot to me. I’ll take the bad and good—everything—for as long as this lasts.”
We kiss, getting lost in that bold declaration of mine. I don’t know if I ever thought I could make it, but now that I have I feel… I feel… God, I feel alive.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says against my ear, leading us away from the river in search of a cab. “I like you too much, Mati. I think I’d be a bit lost without you.” I follow him into the cab and slide in next to him. “You’re a force to be reckoned with. My own hurricane.”
We cuddle in the back seat and watch the other Portlandians enjoy their Saturday night. Beau smooths my hair back with his palm, wiping away the wet, unintentionally getting rid of the cold. I melt into his embrace, smelling his cologne and feeling as though I’m home.
I’ve never thought of home being a person, but Beau’s quickly changing my mind about that. I thought I was being stupid back in Maine, wishing I could be back here with him. I never really thought I was lost until I was truly lost, chasing after something that was never mine to chase. My dreams, my future, a
re my own.
I tip my head back to peer up at Beau, smiling when his fingers trace my lips.
“I’m scared, Mati,” he whispers.
If honesty were a color, it’d be black—undeniable. In the darkness of the cab, his eyes are deep pools of oblivion. I can get lost in them so easily, and in this moment, I slip into their blackness, their honesty.
“Me too,” I answer back.
“We’ll figure it out together?”
“I’m your friend, right?” I play with his collar, trying to keep the mood light. Deep down, I still feel as though I might be sick. Why didn’t he tell me this sooner?
“Might be my best, actually.”
“Interesting.” I close my eyes to the streetlights whirring by us in the cab. I might as well be hurtling through space right now. I can’t find my center. “And I’m your girlfriend?”
Beau taps my nose, that damn adorable dimple of his making an appearance when I have the nerve to look at him with a forced smile. “Do you want to be?”
The cab stops in front of the house, and we pay before I sprint toward the front door. I spin around as he strolls up the walkway. My heart stutters as the answer pools in my mouth, begging for escape.
“Well?”
I wanted this long before I could ever admit it to myself. I fell for my roommate, hopelessly and recklessly. So much for no distractions. “Yes.”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. He looks so cool then, so controlled. But his eyes. His eyes tell me there’s more to come. He doesn’t even need to speak his intention; I see it and I love that, for once, I don’t feel guilty about following through.
“So do you want to come back to my place or…?” he asks with a wicked grin.
I shrug, pretending to examine my navy nail polish. I feel his stare and can’t help the small smile building on my lips, even if the rest of me feels as if I’m running a race. I can’t catch up, can’t bridge what just happened by the river with now. “I have an early morning, so…”
He tugs me closer until I’m flush with him. “Oh, that’s too bad, shortcake,” he whispers into my ear. “I remember something about a rain check.”
The shaky exhale I release earns me a smile from Beau. I’m desperate for him, but not in the way he’s thinking. Still, I flirt back, determined to fall apart later. “Really? What for?” I run my hands underneath his collar, then pop it. Idle hands get me in trouble.
“Hmm,” he hums over the shell of my ear. His hot breath makes me like a popsicle under the August sun. “I can’t remember now.”
“That’s too bad. Well…” I try to spin away to go inside, but his hands are firm on my lower back. When I glance up, I swear my knees buckle. I’m terrified. I don’t want to lose him. “Beau?” I ask quietly, my voice fragile.
“Yeah, baby?”
A lump settles in my throat, and my eyes burn. “Take me to bed?”
He kisses my nose. “Thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Matisse
This sounded like a better idea last night, after having sex a few times with Beau. I know we have to tell Reagan and Ethan that we’re dating, but that seemed easier a couple of hours ago. Now I’m sitting on the arm of the couch in the living room, being stared down by at least one angry roommate. Ethan doesn’t seem to care. As much.
“I don’t want to live with roommates who are dating. I don’t need the drama¸” Reagan says, standing still by the TV. Her face is pale, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think the idea of me and Beau dating makes her physically sick.
“Honestly, it’ll be easier to deal with this shit than have to pretend it wasn’t happening,” Ethan says. He leans up against the wall by Reagan, volleying his attention between her and Beau.
Beside me, Beau is quiet.
“Pretending?” I ask. I didn’t think we’d been that obvious. And really, until last night, we didn’t make a show of being together.
Ethan only shakes his head.
“I want you to move out, Matisse,” Reagan says. Her voice is as cold as the chill that stabs my body.
“I’m not moving out. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“She’s not moving out,” Beau says, finally joining the conversation.
“Then you can,” Reagan snaps back. “I’m not doing this, Beau.”
I jump off the arm of the couch. This isn’t right. I’m missing something. I don’t like how no one is looking at me. I called this meeting for a reason. I matter here. I’m tired of everyone pushing me around.
“I’m not moving out,” I repeat. I don’t need Beau fighting my battles.
“Don’t do this, Rea,” Ethan says with sigh. He pushes off the wall and escapes into the kitchen.
“The meeting isn’t over,” I say. “Ethan.”
“No, we’re done. Mati and I are dating, Reagan. The rent will be paid every month. We’re not going to mess everything up here. Deal with it.” Beau leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Don’t make this an issue.”
“It’s obvious you haven’t told her. Do you want me to?” Reagan asks. “You were never good at sharing the things that matter.”
Somewhere along the way, I’ve become the problem during this discussion.
“She already knows,” he says between clenched teeth.
“Matisse, you know that Beau and I dated for two years?”
“Goddammit, Reagan. Keep your mouth shut,” Ethan yells from the kitchen.
The yelling keeps up between the three of them while I stand there, shocked. I remember that picture of Beau on Facebook, with the brunette on his lap. That lovesick look on his face. We’ve fought for so many months to get to this point, and now all I hear in my head is this ugly voice: rebound, rebound, rebound. I catch myself suddenly sizing up Reagan, wondering what she has that I don’t. Why did he move in with her, but is dating me?
“I didn’t,” I say softly. I feel as though I’ve reached the peak of the mountain only to suddenly tumble all the way down. Now I’m left standing at its foot, wondering how I ever climbed it in the first place. It seems impossible. It feels as if the hours before are already days away. That impossible distance that loves to get stuck between us is creeping back, pushing us apart.
The room that was filled with tension deflates into palpable sadness and disappointment.
Ethan pops his head out from the kitchen. “I think we’re done now. I’m with them, Rea. Sorry. You’ll have to deal.”
“You both broke the rules,” she says. “I’m not being unreasonable. There are consequences.”
“For what?” Beau yells.
I’ve never seen this side of him before, so angry. We stand side by side and he reaches for my hand, but I back away. I need to rethink things. Make sure this is the right move. It’s already such a big risk to take on a relationship with Beau when I’m not sure I can even handle myself. And after last night…and now…
“You don’t get to ruin this for me,” he tells Reagan. I don’t like the sharp edge to his words or how I’ve seem to have disappeared in the middle of all this.
I tune out the rest of their argument and slip inside my room. I burrow under my covers and close my eyes, drifting off and away…
It’s not until the mattress dips behind me and I feel a body wrap around mine that I pull myself from sleep. I hate that I don’t relax back into his arms like I normally would. I don’t like that there’s this huge part of his life I don’t know about. It’s not just Reagan. It’s hockey and school and what he wants out of life. I know nothing.
“Mati, you’ve got work soon.”
I start, realizing I never set an alarm. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Okay.” I focus my eyes on the opposite wall, my body still.
“Are you mad at me? I didn’t mean—”
“For me to find out?” A chill chases down my spine.
Beau’s arm wraps around my middle. I roll onto my bac
k instead of snuggling close and breathe deep, shutting my eyes at the sight of his. “That’s the second thing you’ve kept from me,” I whisper. “It’s hard to start a relationship on surprises.”
“So you are mad at me.”
My eyes pop open to meet his. “I should be, but no. I’m surprised…and unsure of things, I guess.”
He props himself up so he can look down at me, his dark eyes filled with such laden worry that I want to recoil and hide again. “Unsure of what?” he asks. I don’t answer, too afraid. “I’ve meant everything I’ve said to you, Matisse. I want to make this work.” He bends down and kisses my forehead, then my nose and cheekbones. “I haven’t wanted something so badly in my life. You’re… Fuck, you’re everything to me right now, Mati.”
The thing is, Beau has always been good at living outside of the lines. He’s gotten even better at making me forget mine.
“Fight over,” I say. I push up onto my elbows and kiss him long enough that he’ll believe me. Then I sneak out of bed and get dressed, ready for a short shift at the coffee house before I spend the rest of the day at the floral shop.
I leave with the image of him curled up in my bed, a satisfied smile on his face, and an uncomfortable swell of dread mounting in my stomach. I want this just as badly, but why does it feel like it’s something we can’t have?
***
It started while I was bored on break at the floral shop after I found out about Reagan and Beau. My fingers shook as I typed in multiple sclerosis on my phone and started reading everything I could. I haven’t stopped since. Two weeks of me sneaking around Beau, hiding how I feel, how I’m afraid to ruin what we have.
I don’t want it to control our relationship, but it’s always there with us in the room. It’s this darkness that hovers over me, and I’m waiting, waiting for something bad to happen. And after researching, I know that, at some point, it could.
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