Crazy in Love (Matt & Anna Book 1)

by Annabelle Costa

  Great. Apparently, I’ve become unfuckable.

  The truth is though, I don’t want meaningless sex with Jessie or Rosie. Being with either of them would have been a release, but it would have been depressing. I want Anna. Even though it might be impossible, I want that to happen. It’s all I want.

  But will it ever happen?

  Chapter 45: Anna

  It takes me two hours to get ready for bed. On a good day.

  My main concern is that somebody could get into the house during the night because I’ve forgotten to lock a door or window. So after I brush my teeth for 121 seconds and wash my face (also for 121 seconds), I go downstairs to make sure all the windows are shut and locked. I jiggle the handles eleven times each. By the end, my wrists are usually fairly achy.

  I go back upstairs to wash my hands again. Then I go back downstairs to make sure the front and back doors are locked. I turn each lock eleven times total. Then I wash my hands again. After that, I check every single one of the faucets to make sure they’re not leaking, I check the refrigerator and freezer to make sure that they’re closed. And of course, to make sure all the lights are off.

  If I’m lucky, that’s the end of it. But if I get it into my head that I left a light on or a faucet running or a window unlocked, I have to run downstairs and start over again. This can easily take an hour or longer.

  When I feel satisfied that everything downstairs is secure, I take a shower. Some people may shower in the morning, but I always shower at night because it’s not clear how long it will take. If I allow the shower curtain to touch me or if my body brushes up against the tiles on the wall, I have to start all over again because those are obviously contaminated. It can take anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour.

  Tonight my ritual takes forever. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get it out of my head that I’ve left something undone downstairs. I can’t seem to focus and it’s all because of Matt. I can’t stop thinking about him.

  After I make it through my shower, I linger in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom. Looking at myself naked isn’t something I usually do. But now I stare at myself critically, frowning at my narrow hips and breasts that are still firm but decidedly smaller than average. If Matt were to see me naked, would he like what he sees?

  The thought of Matt seeing me naked doesn’t frighten me the way I would think it might. Instead, it sends a pleasant tingle down my spine.

  I wonder what he looks like naked. A few times I’ve seen the tiniest amount of hair peeking out of the collar of his shirt when he’s taken his tie off at the end of the work day. It makes me want to reach out and undo another button.

  I sigh and turn away from my reflection. I go back to the bathroom, wash my hands again, then put on my nightgown. I wash my nightgown and bedsheets daily to ensure that they’re not contaminated, and I also have special clean slippers that I only wear after my shower. It makes me feel that I am a hundred percent safe and clean in my bed.

  But of course, once I’m lying down, sleep eludes me.

  Usually it’s thoughts of an unlocked door or light left on that keeps me awake. Tonight, it’s Matt. I wonder if he’s still out with his friends. No, it’s surely too late for that. By now, he either went home by himself or with a woman.

  I close my eyes and allow myself to imagine the woman Matt might have gone home with. She’d wear too much makeup and have lots of curves that would make me look like a boy in comparison. That’s the sort of woman you meet in a bar. But Matt hasn’t been out with a woman in a long time, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to have whoever shows him interest. He’ll take her home and then…

  Oh God.

  My throat closes up. I can’t think of Matt with another woman. It’s physically painful to imagine him kissing her and following her into her queen-sized bed. I curl up in a bed, squeezing my eyes shut tightly against the image.

  Perhaps he’s not with a woman. He might have gone home alone.

  I reach for my phone that’s charging on my nightstand. I have Matt’s number programmed into it, but I’ve never had occasion to call him. I can’t even imagine calling him now. But what if…

  Could I send him a text message?

  Just a friendly text asking him how his night went. That wouldn’t be inappropriate. Friends do that all the time, and Matt and I are indisputably friends. And if he replies that he’s home, then I’ll be able to slumber in peace.

  Of course, if he doesn’t reply, then I’ll be even more anxious.

  After several more minutes of careful consideration and debate, I type into my phone: How was your night out?

  There is nothing wrong or strange about sending a friend that text. It is simply a friendly inquiry. Matt surely won’t feel that I’m being invasive or inappropriate. Before I can stress over it further, I hit the send button.

  Then I wait.

  After two minutes and fifteen seconds have passed, I start to get anxious. Matt is not responding to this text message. This must mean he’s with a woman and his phone is lying abandoned in a pile of sweaty clothing somewhere. He’s probably lying on top of her, their bodies stuck together with perspiration, his lips on hers.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not going to think about this. Matt is entitled to do as he wishes. He does not belong to me.

  Then my phone buzzes and my eyes fly open. I see Matt’s name at the top of the screen and I feel a flood of relief. He responded to me. That surely means he’s alone.

  It wasn’t too bad.

  For several seconds, I hold the phone in my hand, smiling insipidly at the sight of Matt’s mundane words on the screen. He’s writing to me. He’s at home, thinking of me, writing me a text message. I feel oddly close to my phone right now.

  I write back: Meet anyone?

  I bite my lip, wondering if I’ve gone too far. But I have to know.

  Not really. Nobody worth mentioning.

  I grip the phone tighter. So that means he’s certainly alone.

  I write: I’m in bed. Are you?

  Yep, he writes. Your text woke me up. Thanks a lot!

  And then he adds a smiley emoticon at the end of the sentence. I have never used an emoticon in all my years of owning a cell phone, but before I can stop myself, I text back an equally jubilant emoticon to him.

  I will let you get back to sleep, I write to him.

  We can talk if you want. I don’t mind.

  I consider it. It would be nice talking to Matt on the phone, hearing his voice in my bedroom as I lie in bed. I could pretend that he’s next to me in bed without all the worry and stress that would be associated with him actually being next to me in bed. But now that all the anxiety about Matt and another woman has left my body, I feel drained. I’m ready for sleep.

  We will talk tomorrow, I write.

  Okay, he writes. Good night, Anna.

  Good night, Matt.

  And I sleep like a baby.

  Chapter 46: Matt

  I can’t sleep after talking to Anna.

  She texted me. Anna never texts me. She only agreed to program my number into her phone “in case of an emergency.” And it’s nearly midnight. Why was Anna lying in bed and thinking about me at midnight?

  It’s hard not to let my imagination run away with that one.

  I try jerking off, but it doesn’t relax me the way it usually does. It sure as hell doesn’t get thoughts of Anna out of my head. I wish I were with her right now instead of alone in bed. I’d give anything to be lying next to her. Not even necessarily having sex with her or even making out with her (although that would obviously be great) but just being next to her in bed, holding hands. I would give my right arm to hold Anna’s hand. (Although that might be self-defeating.)

  At around two in the morning, I make the decision: Fuck it, I’m going to ask her out to dinner.

  Of course, the second I start getting close to her cubicle the next day, I second guess myself. Is there any chance in hell Anna would actually go out wit
h me? Am I going to ruin our friendship? Am I making a huge mistake just because I’m horny?

  Oh well. Here goes nothing.

  Anna’s face lights up the way it always does when I approach her. “Hi, Matt!”

  “Hi,” I say. My hands gripping the handles of my crutches feel sweaty. That happens to me sometimes. “That was a surprise hearing from you last night.”

  “Oh.” Anna’s usually pale cheeks color. “I guess… I was worried that you might have… gotten in a car accident on the way home. So I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  I grin at her in what I hope is a charming manner. I used to get girls to like me—maybe I can still do it. “You think I’m that bad a driver, huh?”

  Anna sticks out her chin defiantly. “Motor vehicle collisions are the leading cause of death in men in your age group. It’s not inconceivable that I might have worried.”

  Sometimes Anna doesn’t understand the concept of flirty banter. It’s cute.

  “So what are you up to?” I ask.

  “I’m on a deadline,” Anna says. “I’ve been coding like a madwoman!”

  I laugh. “You’ll have time for lunch with me though, right?”

  “But of course,” she assures me vehemently. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  I pause a beat. Now is the moment. If there was ever a moment, this is it. I need to go for it.

  Go for it, you wuss!

  I swallow hard. “And how about dinner?”

  Anna looks at me in confusion. “Well, I always eat three meals a day. Of course, breakfast is the most important. But I usually eat dinner too.”

  “No.” I clear my throat. “I mean, dinner… with me.”

  I look at her face, waiting for her answer. Please say yes, Anna. It’s me.

  Please say yes, Anna. I love you.

  Chapter 47: Anna

  Matt has just asked me out on a date.

  I knew this moment was coming for a long time now. I love Matt, and I have been increasingly convinced that he has feelings for me. Maybe not love. Probably not love. But attraction, certainly. He would not be so kind to me, he would not spend every lunch with me, if there were not some sort of feelings there.

  Last night, I was terrified that he was with another woman. I was consumed with jealousy. I wanted Matt to ask me out. I wanted him to kiss me. To go home with me.

  And now here we are. He is asking me to dinner—the thing that I have longed for possibly since the day I first saw him smile at me, if I’m being entirely honest with myself. When I imagined this moment, I felt certain that I would be able to look him in the eyes and tell him that I would love to go out to dinner with him.

  But now that this moment is here, I feel fear prickling at the back of my neck. How could we eat out for dinner when I haven’t been to a restaurant in a decade? And what if he tried to touch my hand? What if he tried to kiss me?

  Sweat breaks out on my palms.

  “Matt,” I say, although I’m not sure what the next words out of my mouth will be. Yes or no. One of those two, unless there’s a third option I can fabricate.

  I can see the red in his ears creeping into his cheeks. He’s expecting an answer from me. He may already be regretting having asked.

  “It’s just…” I clear my throat. “I don’t like restaurants. You know that.”

  There. I’ve blamed it on restaurants. Nothing to do with Matt—it’s restaurants that are the source of difficulty.

  Matt scrunches up his eyebrows. “I could come to your house then?”

  Now that the restaurant is out of the picture, I should be okay. But I’m not. My heart is pounding in my chest and my hands are trembling. The thought of Matt touching me is the scariest thing I can imagine. I tap on the top can on my tower eleven times. It doesn’t help.

  He’s so cute. I want this so much. But as much as I want it, I’m terrified.

  “I don’t…” I begin. “I just… I don’t generally have people over.”

  Matt bites his lip. It’s obvious he’s starting to get it. “Or my house?”

  “Oh no,” I blurt out in a voice that’s much more emphatic than I would have wanted it to be. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”

  His face darkens. I’ve gone too far. I see that now. “You wouldn’t feel comfortable?” he says, the anger creeping into his voice.

  I squeeze my fists together. “Matt…”

  “Why wouldn’t you feel comfortable?” he goes on. “You’ll be with me. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  Yes. Sometimes. But less than anyone else I’ve ever known.

  Matt drops his head, looking down at his braced legs and crutches. I feel compelled to jump up and hug him, although I’m certain that would be interpreted the wrong way. And that’s not something I would do anyway.

  “Forget it,” he mutters. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  He looks at me one last time with a flash of hatred in his eyes. Over the last year, Matt has become the best thing in my life and now I’ve ruined it. Arguably, he is the one who has ruined it by asking something of me that he should have known I could not give him, but I can’t blame him when he did exactly what I’ve wanted him to do for so long. I love Matt. I want to go out to that dinner with him. I want to sit across from him at a restaurant and stare into his eyes in the flickering candlelight. I’ve never wanted such a thing before, but I want it so badly now that it makes my chest ache.

  Still, I can’t make myself tell him yes.

  “I’m sorry, Matt,” I whisper.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t be. You were just being honest.”

  Before I manage another word of apology, Matt turns away from me and goes to his cubicle. I hear him sitting down heavily, then the sound of his fingers on his keyboard. I wish I could take it back, but at the same time, I know that if I were to rewind time, I would do things exactly the same. And that’s the worst part.

  I want to be with Matt more than anything. But the thought of it sends me into a panic.

  This is the first time in my life I’ve felt the extent of my sickness. Even all those times I raced around the parking garage, checking under every single car, I never truly believed that my brain was worth fixing.

  I’m sick. I’m sick and I need help.

  So instead of getting back to work, I google psychiatrists in my area.

  Chapter 48: Matt

  Anna has rejected me.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not surprised. But also, I am. I thought… Christ, I don’t know. I thought Anna and I had a connection. I thought she felt… well, maybe not exactly as strongly as I do, but at least something. I thought she might think I was someone she would want to go out with.

  I’m an idiot. Of course Anna Flint doesn’t want to go out on a date. That’s not her thing.

  After Anna turns me down, I throw myself into my work. Luckily, I’ve got a big project I’m working on that’s consuming enough of my energy and brain power that I can manage not to think about the Anna situation, and also the fact that I’ll probably never have sex again for the rest of my life. Unless I pay for it.

  I’ve been coding for an hour and a half straight when I feel the urge to go to the bathroom.

  Dr. Dunne told me that bowel and bladder issues are not uncommon in people with MS. It was never an issue for me until very recently. In the last few months, I’ve been noticing that when I need to go, I really need to go. Immediately. And considering getting to the bathroom (or anywhere) is not something I can do quickly anymore, as soon as the urge hits, I act on it.

  Except this time I’m so involved in my code that I postpone running to the bathroom. It’s become an ordeal now, and I’m still steamed about Anna. I just want to get through a bit more before I get up.

  And then it’s too late.

  I can’t tell you how awful it is to be at work and feel that warmth spreading through your underwear and pants. And then look down and see piss stains all over my tan slacks in a very recognizable pattern. I tho
ught getting shot down by Anna was one of the worst moments of my recent life, but we might have a new winner. I’m at work and I pissed my pants. I will never, ever live this down if anyone finds out.

  But how the fuck am I going to get out of here without anyone noticing?

  I can’t think of a way. I can’t. It’s not like I can sprint out of here quickly or anything. People are always walking down the aisles and everyone is going to notice a prominent stain on my crotch. It’s impossible not to notice.

  Christ, I don’t want to be known as the guy who wet his pants at work. Shit. Everyone already feels awkward enough around me.

  I’m trying to figure out what the hell to do when I hear Anna’s voice behind me. “Matt?”

  At first I’m scared she realized what I’ve done, but no, it’s impossible for her to know. I’m still facing my computer and my secret is still hidden from her. So I keep my eyes pinned on the computer screen. “Yes?”

  “Um,” she says. “It’s time for lunch…”

  Yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m getting out of this chair. I don’t want Anna, of all people, to know I pissed myself. Christ, what will she think of me? Of course, she’s already made it painfully clear she’s not interested in me.

  “I’m kind of busy,” I say. “You go ahead without me.”

  “But…” Anna’s voice gets very soft. “We always have lunch together…”

  For Christ’s sake. “I told you that I’m busy. Okay?”

  She’s quiet for a minute, but I know she’s still there. I can sense her hovering over me.

  “Is this because I didn’t want to have dinner with you?” she asks.

  No, Anna, it’s because I wet my fucking pants!

  “No,” I say.

  “Matt.” I hear her voice break. “Will you at least look at me?”

  One thing I’ve learned about Anna Flint is that she does not let things go. Ever. She will stand here and bug me until I do what she wants or I drop dead—whichever comes first. So finally, I turn around in my rolling chair.