“How are you going to get home then, champ?” Adam sneered, that self-satisfied grin seemingly plastered on his face. Amy had never had an urge to hit someone, not in her entire life. But now she would like nothing better than to slap that smile right off.
From the looks of Matt’s clenched fist, he was thinking the same thing. “She’s my friend, so I’m happy to drive her home. We already talked about it.”
That wasn’t a lie, and that only added to the warmth Amy felt when she looked at Matt’s calm, but determined, face.
Now Adam turned his attention to Amy. “What am I supposed to say to your mom?”
“Tell her that I didn’t want to ride for two hours in a car with my ex-boyfriend.” She didn’t mention how many times they’d made out, how many times Adam had felt her up, in the seat she was supposed to sit in with him again. “And tell her…” now the rage was beginning to build. Mom hadn’t told her anything about Christmas dinner with Adam’s family, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that must have been on purpose. All the comments Mom had been making about boys being boys, and what she had with Adam being stronger than that…of course she’d arranged this dinner, and known that Amy wouldn’t have come if she knew Adam would be there. “Tell her that if she wanted me home for Christmas, she would have been honest with me about her plans. And if she wants to see me at Spring Break, she won’t pull anything like this again.”
Amy could feel the heat building behind her eyes, the one that meant that tears would soon follow. Matt looked at her, and the expression on his face changed almost immediately, saying that he’d seen what was about to happen. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and almost instinctively, Amy did the same.
“I’m on Student Government. I have a very close, friendly relationship with Campus Police. I’m sure they’d be happy to tell you exactly the same thing I’ve been telling you—if a girl doesn’t want to ride with you, leave her alone. They’ll make sure you get on your way without any trouble.” Amy slowly punched in the three-digit code that would summon the flashing blue police lights.
The not-so-thinly veiled threat only deepened the redness rising up Adam’s neck and over the tips of his ears, while his knuckles turned white from clutching the steering wheel. But, at the same time, he didn’t move. He just let his mouth drop open, glancing quickly between Amy, Matt, and Amy’s phone. Then he looked Amy hard in the eyes, muttered a barely audible, “Whatever, bitch,” and sped off, squealing the tires of his overpriced, over-polished pickup behind him.
Amy stood there, shaking, but not from the cold. The trembling came from deep inside her, radiating out to her limbs and making her completely unsteady. After taking a moment to breathe deep in her belly and force the shaking back inside, she looked up at the empty space on the road where Adam’s truck had idled, forcing down the memory of him trying to reclaim her, like a sweatshirt he’d left in the lost and found bin and only thought about retrieving when it would be useful again.
But she wasn’t a sweatshirt. She wasn’t a decoration, and she wasn’t a utilitarian something that you wrapped around you only when the air got a little chilly.
“I can drive you home,” Matt said softly, his words perfectly matching the space where her thoughts dissipated into raw, incoherent anger.
“No,” she said harshly, whipping around to look at him. He flinched and took half a step back, but then stood his ground and waited for more. How did he know she just hadn’t gone full bitch on him? What in the world was making him stay?
It was his faith in her, that was what. Damn him, he trusted her like she had trusted Adam. But she didn’t want to be like Adam, cutting Matt down for no reason. Because there was no reason.
“I mean,” she started again, “no, thanks. I can’t go home. Did you hear what my mom tried to do to me? Blindsiding me with a dinner with…with…him?” Betrayal planted a stinging slap on her soul, the one that had always believed that Mom was there to love and support her, not to push her back into a relationship that had almost destroyed her. And more than once at that.
“Arranged a dinner between you and Adam. And your families.”
“Not just a dinner. Christmas dinner. The dinner that families do together. This is…I mean, now I know it’s kind of sick, but when we were dating, it felt normal. I was supposed to marry Adam. It wasn’t like they would kill me if I didn’t, and it wasn’t like we were engaged or anything.”
“So…” Matt’s face twisted in confusion. “So who cares if you broke up?”
“We were the perfect couple. Every single person in that town expected us to get married. According to life in Tripp Creek, we were the perfect couple. He played football on my daddy’s team. He’s the pastor’s kid, so he would be a strong spiritual leader for me. I was the good Christian girl who agreed that teaching preschool would be a great career to wait and prepare for motherhood. So, that means that if we broke up that we were the stupid ones. Adam wanting to drive me home means that he’s acknowledged that, but I refuse to. Because none of that’s the same anymore. I’m not that girl anymore, and he never was that guy.”
“You were pretty upset,” Matt offered, moving a step closer. “You know, when it happened. When he dumped you.” His voice dropped, and so did his eyes. When he turned them to her again, they looked up through long, thick eyelashes. How had she never noticed those before? Probably his glasses had been in the way. But now that he was so close to her…
“I was,” Amy acknowledged, slowly working through the ridiculousness of what had just happened. “But the more I thought about his reasons, the more I felt like at some time down the line he’d turned into the wrong guy. A guy that I wouldn’t spend forever with. So I guess I’m not upset anymore, even though…yeah, the memory of it is bad, it was like getting the rug pulled from under me. I fell on my butt and I didn’t even see it coming. Worse, I had nobody to help me back up.”
“You had your roommates,” Matt said. “And you have me.”
Amy’s heart soared, and all of a sudden she wanted so badly to find the words for what Matt meant to her. If she had been able to define it for herself, she might have been able to say something meaningful. Instead, she just said, “Yeah. You were there.”
The smile Matt gave her at those words was pure warmth. “So you’re saying you don’t love him anymore? That’s why you don’t want to go home?” Confusion and hopefulness mingled in Matt’s voice.
“No, I don’t love him,” Amy said, feeling the frustration slap at the edges of her patience. “I don’t want to be with him, and I don’t want to sit around a Christmas tree for three hours listening to my mom, Dad, and my ex-boyfriend tell me what’s best for me and my future. I want…”
The wind kicked up, whipping her fiery hair into a cloud around her and even catching Matt off guard as he scrunched up his face and bent his head down to meet it. “Let’s get inside. We’ll figure this out inside.”
“Matt, if you were headed home, you should keep going,” Amy said, knowing the edge of her voice was hard, not really caring. She was pretty done being taken care of. Even though shakiness still surrounded every cell of her body, she’d survived. She was alone, the day before Christmas, with nowhere she naturally fit. It wasn’t an awesome feeling, but she could survive it. These past fifteen weeks, the wind had tried to knock her down, and she’d won. Her shoulders trembled as she shook violently. “Seriously, I’m fine. I can figure this out.”
“Geez, Amy, I know, okay? Of course you can. Everyone knows you’re strong.”
Was he reading her mind? Amy couldn’t decide if she was frustrated or relieved at this, and the two feelings mixed together, making the hairs on the back of her neck bristle, newly sensitive to what Matt would say or do next.
And then his arm was around her shoulders, warm and comforting and strong. Not holding her up, but encouraging her to relax into his support.
“I know you’re strong,” he continued. “And that’s why I want to
help you figure out what to do. I don’t feel sorry for you. I respect you, and I want to be good to you,” he said, his voice softening at the end. “I want to be a good friend to you. Friends don’t leave their friends alone in a dorm room on Christmas.”
Amy’s heart sank on that word. Friend. She felt angry with herself for that feeling almost as soon as it struck her. She was the one who wanted to be friends, and only friends. Matt was respecting her wishes. Did she want him to force herself on her? Did she want someone who felt entitled to touch, kiss, possess her, like Adam did?
She shook her head roughly, biting her lip to try to wake herself up from whatever downward spiral of confusion she felt herself sinking into. Like it or not, Christmas was happening, and the dorm would be a ghost town. If she didn’t want to be all alone eating ramen noodles on the day of Christ’s birth, she had to make a plan. Matt was asking to stand next to her while she did.
Friends. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing to be afraid of.
And just like that, the possibility of having him standing beside her made her feel stronger, not weaker.
Matt dropped his arm from around her shoulders as soon as they started walking back toward the dorm. Again, with the sinking heart. Finally, the blast of relatively warm air when they stepped into the Harrison lobby let her breathe again.
Amy collapsed into one of the office-upholstered lobby chairs and sighed. She raked both hands back through her hair, realizing only after she did it that it was a habit she’d picked up from Matt. He plopped down in the chair opposite hers, staring at the cheap particle board lobby table that was probably cool five years ago, but just looked sad now.
“What were you still doing here? I thought you were planning to leave this morning.”
“I picked up a gift card to Francis Beans. You said you were coming back on Saturday night but I need to stay with my moms for church on Sunday morning. Didn’t want you to miss our Sunday morning coffee, so I was going to slide it under your door. A surprise. “
He glanced up at her and shrugged, like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t the sweetest thing a guy had ever done for her—sweeter than the flowers Adam got her at homecoming, the Valentine’s Day chocolates, and certainly that prom night when everything started going so wrong. Amy had wondered what was wrong with her, that she didn’t melt at all Adam’s gestures—this was the first time she had considered that those things hadn’t really been romantic at all. Because they had proven that Adam didn’t know much about what made her happy at all. Or maybe didn’t care.
Then the dreaded redhead blush flooded her cheeks. She had to get it together and figure out what she was going to do, because eventually, Matt would have to leave. She buried her face in her hands.
“I really can take you home. It’s no problem. What is it, two hours?”
“Four hours round trip, since you’re in the opposite direction,” Amy groaned, surprised that she even knew where Matt was from, had a concept of how far it was. “Plus however long it takes to get to your house.”
“It’s no problem. We have dinner late anyway,” Matt said, still staring at the table. Weird. He usually had no problem looking at her, smiling at her, acting like there was nothing horrible going on in the world when he was with her. The usual.
“No, no, that’s crazy.”
“You don’t want to go home, do you?” Matt asked, staring at her now, boldly. Like if he was afraid of anything before, he certainly wasn’t anymore. “Come home with me,” he continued, with Amy’s mouth hanging open, before she could get an answer in. “Offer still stands. My moms would love to have you. And not,” he said when she started to protest again, “because they’re waiting for me to bring home a girl, or anything. They know that we’re just friends.”
Amy scoffed. “How can they possibly know anything about me?”
“I’ve told them. A lot. You’re important to me, Ames.” Eyes dropped to the table again, and this time, when Amy heard her nickname, she didn’t feel sick.
What she did feel was a pang of guilt. Because if Matt was telling the truth—and why wouldn’t he be—she had spoken to her parents 100% less about him than he had about her.
“And they know where I’m from?”
“I…think so? How is that even relevant? We’re going to church and watching It’s a Wonderful Life and eating homemade French toast on Christmas morning.”
“Oh no,” Amy said. “Presents. I didn’t get anything for your moms. I didn’t get anything for you.” This was just getting worse and worse. No matter how awkward this was, though, it couldn’t be worse than sitting at a Christmas dinner table with the two people she was most angry at in the entire world.
“We don’t do presents, not since I was in junior high. We donate to charity instead.”
Amy’s eyes snapped to Matt’s. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious, like Jesus on the cross.”
Amy snorted out a laugh and clapped a hand over her mouth. She shook her head, slowly lowering it. “Of course you donate to charity. Of course.”
“What do you mean by that?” Matt asked with a bemused smile.
“Just that, you know, of course you would be perfect in that way, too.” Now Amy’s cheeks flushed bright red. Apparently the encounter with Adam had completely removed any filter she’d had between her thoughts and speech. “I mean…uh…”
Again, Matt came to her rescue. “Whatever. You can meet some of my friends and we’ll go to church and hear my mom preach. Relaxed and chill.”
It did sound really, really nice. The only thing nicer would be going home, but only if nobody was meddling in her love life, judging her, or insisting that Adam was still the perfect guy for her. Because after seeing him today, Amy was more sure than ever that she never wanted to see him again. She just had to convince everyone else of that next.
“And they have room for me?”
Matt dipped his head down. “We’ve always had a guest room. Mom is meticulous about it because once the Bishop was in town, and we only found out he was staying with us at the last minute. Ever since then she lives ready for drop-in guests of extreme importance.”
Amy scoffed. “Which I am not.”
“You’re important to me. So you’re important to them. So you’re coming, then? And I assume you’re all packed?” he asked, rising and grabbing the handle of her rolling suitcase.
Amy sighed. “I guess you’re right. As usual. If you’re sure they won’t mind,” Amy said, checking his expression again for any signs of doubt. Even though Christmas at Matt’s house sounded cozy and happy, she wouldn’t have been completely opposed to putting her new skills of independence to the test. For the most part.
Amy’s rolling bag in one hand, Matt stuck the other one down for her to grab. It was warm and soft, and for the first time, Amy noticed how strong his fingers were when they wrapped around hers. He wasn’t a humungous muscled athlete like Adam, but Amy saw all the measures of his strength knitting together before her eyes now—friendship, morals, faith. Plus, the actual literal muscles.
“Come on,” he said, that vague smile sending sparks of light into his eyes, “we need to get going if we’re going to make it for 2:00 dinner.”
Amy stopped in her tracks, pursed her lips together, and shook her head. “You said Christmas Eve dinner was late at your house,” she said.
“Two is late, compared to eleven.”
She glared at him, trying very hard to keep the smile that was trying to wiggle its way out tamped down. “What? Some people eat dinner at eleven o’clock.”
“Sure, somewhere. Maybe. Not in Indiana.” Now her grin was unstoppable, though. As annoyed as she was that Matt had been about to miss his own family’s Christmas Eve dinner just to take her home, at least they were joking about it now, and the awkward tension surrounding the whole issue had dissipated.
“I guess they’re the same people that stay on campus ‘til Christmas Eve,” Matt said.
“Nah, y
ou have an excuse. You needed to escort at the clinic yesterday when everyone else bailed. Even CarrieAnn had some service project to do for her sorority. I was just…waiting.” Amy frowned. That sounded pathetic. That was pathetic.
If they hadn’t been about to get in the car and head to the house he grew up in—a reality that felt strangely inevitable at this moment—they would have been having just another conversation over coffee. One where jokes and half-insults rolled off their tongues, but the smiles told them they were full of friendship, where they finished each other’s sentences and could keep companionable silence with equal ease. But somehow, this felt bigger. Heavier. Matt smiled. “Come on. I’ll be lonely without you.”
Matt’s car was old and rattly, roaring down the freeway just a little over the speed limit, with a distinctive draft blowing in through the floor or under the door. It was strange to be sitting next to him shoulder-to-shoulder; she was used to being able to look straight at him, to watch his animated talking, to laugh about his t-shirt or make fun of his sugary latte.
But the flat Indiana countryside, occasionally interspersed with cornfields, which had already been flattened by the fall harvest, and clumps of trees that had lost the last of their brightly-colored leaves weeks ago, gave them nothing to do but talk. And they did. Whatever it was about being in the car together forced a quieter, deeper conversation, and by the time they pulled off the highway, Amy had heard about every single one of Matt’s childhood pets, including the current black Labrador rescue who acted like a cat, and Matt had heard about Amy’s most embarrassing high school moments, including the time the pyramid flyer kicked her in the face at homecoming freshman year.
“Holy wow,” Matt said, shaking his head and flicking his eyes over to her. “I can’t believe they let a new cheerleader do that.”
“That’s just the thing. I wasn’t a new one. I’d been doing it competitively since the fourth grade, because that’s what my mother did, so that’s what she signed me up for. I usually was really good about being the base, you know, because I’ve always been kind of…big.”
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