“Matthew?” Holly positions her hands clumsily, trying to cover her body.
“Yes.”
“You think maybe I can have a towel or something?”
She’s naked, she’s freezing, she’s sick, and what am I doing? Standing here like an idiot rambling on about vomit fetishes. My jaw clenches as I curse myself while grabbing a towel from the closet. “Here.” I stretch my arms, opening the large gray towel up for her but she grabs it instead.
“I got it, thanks.” She wraps herself up tight. “Can I get some privacy? I just want to clean up. I’m a mess and I still feel like I might be sick. Maybe you can grab my clothes so I can get dressed? I need to go home.”
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll go grab your stuff from my room right now.” I back out of the bathroom and close the door behind me.
My eyes close and a deep groan rolls out. In an instant this night took such a disastrous turn. Alcohol is never the answer. So thinking the answer was more alcohol was just fucking crazy. But I guess that’s what happens when you let your peen do most of your thinking.
I sidestep the puke that I need to clean and retrieve Holly’s clothes from my room. I take a second to peer out the big picture window. The snow is still falling and the roads below are a blanket of white. A plow scrapes down the road pushing the snow to the side, trapping in all the parked cars, including my own. I grab my phone and search for an updated weather report. Instead of the possible one to two inches that was in the forecast, twelve inches are now expected, and by the looks of it outside, I’d say at least five to six of them have already fallen. I’m not sure how or when Holly is getting home.
I knock on the door and it opens only enough for her to stick her hand out so that I can hand over her clothes.
“Twelve inches!” I burst out, and her hand snaps away and the door slams shut. Fuck! I rest my forehead up against the door. “Snow, I’m talking about snow. The forecast is now calling for twelve inches.”
It takes a few seconds before the bathroom door slowly cracks open. She takes the clothes from my hand and stands in the doorway all wrapped up in my towel. “As soon as I’m dressed I’ll use my app to call for a ride.”
“You don’t need to go. Stay. I can drive you home in the morning.” There’s little chance she’ll say yes, but at this point I’m not sure there’s really any other option.
“I’m not sure if that’s such a great idea.” She tugs on the towel, blinking her pretty brown eyes up at me. “I should probably just go.”
“I think it would be safer if you stayed here and waited out the storm. You can stay in my room and I’ll sleep on the couch. I have an extra toothbrush, some clothes you can borrow.” I can’t let her leave. I don’t want to her to leave. “Did you know that Pennsylvania has one of the highest numbers in the US for icy road fatalities?” I ask, hoping the scary statistic will help in getting her to agree to stay.
“I didn’t know that.” She pulls a long brown strand of hair over her mouth and hides the smallest hint of a smile. “You sure do know your facts.”
“I do and I’m really good at Jeopardy!” I boast, like I’m some kind of scholar. And because I don’t quite sound ridiculous enough, and never know when to quit talking, I also say, “And Trivial Pursuit. My parents have an old nineties version of it and on family game night, I’m hard to beat.”
Silence.
Jesus Christ. I turn my head away. I don’t want to see her face when she responds to the stupidity that just flew from my mouth, yet again.
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?” I chance a glance in her direction.
“Okay, I’ll stay the night.”
IF I WERE to sum up this night in a hashtag, that hashtag would be #shame.
The snow makes sleeping here awkward, yet necessary. Twelve inches? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, where the hell did this storm come from?
A hangover is already stomping its way through my head. Locking myself in the bathroom, I scour through the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. After popping three, I run the water to let it warm up. Matthew not only offered for me to stay, but to use his shower as well. A shower I am in desperate need of. Why is there barf on my feet?
While the mirror collects with steam, I poke the new toothbrush he gave me out of its plastic bubble and scrub my filthy mouth clean. My very filthy mouth. The mouth I used to refer to myself as a slut. I place the toothbrush down and use both hands to rub deep into my temples. If I rub hard enough maybe I can erase the memory from my mind. What is it about this guy that leads me to make such rash, poor decisions? And where in the hell had all that dirty talk come from? That’s not me. Or at least it never was. Fireball, I love you—but you have got to go. You are banned from my life from this point on.
I step into the warm water of his glass-tiled shower. For some reason seeing that he uses Aussie shampoo makes me giggle. I use it too. Picking up the bottle I sniff the grapey scent before squeezing a small amount into my hands. I scrub my hair as the foamy soap spills down my face, still cringing at all that transpired this evening. At least I can congratulate myself on sobering up before it went too far again, but I guess the mention of lube and ass play followed by three rounds of vomiting will sober anyone up pretty damn quick.
Matthew’s not a mistake I can make again. Sure, the first time was fun. And surely a second time would have been just as fun. But it wouldn’t be worth all the regret and self-loathing that followed. I want a relationship, not a one-night stand. I step out of the shower, toweling off quickly and using a comb on the sink to rake through my tangled wet hair. So then why did I wind up here again?
Jayne was right. Matthew is my rebound. I grab the t-shirt he gave me, slip it on over my head, and slide back into my panties. He’s just the guy that will help me get over Tyler so that I can move on. Ugh. Tyler. My stomach turns as the image of the sparkling diamond ring on that beautiful bitch’s finger resurfaces. And my face burns remembering how I mortified myself acknowledging their engagement.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door, saving me from the tortuous returning thoughts of last night. “Hey, Holly, I’m gonna make mac ’n’ cheese. Would you like some?”
More than anything in the world.
“Yes!” I open the door to him and even though only moments ago I was naked in his arms shouting out profanities, he glances at my bare legs and bashfully snaps his head in the other direction.
“Do you want sweats or something?” He’s changed into blue running pants and a gray t-shirt. There’s a smudge on his glasses and his hair… well, that hair, I’m guessing, will never lay flat.
“Nope. I’m fine.” Just his oversized tee and my panties are more than enough for me to be comfy in. The fact that it seems to be making him squirm makes me need to hold back a chuckle. He wasn’t this shy a half hour ago.
He leads the way into the kitchen where a pot of water is already on the stove and starting to boil. A measuring cup of milk sits on the counter, and he grabs a stick of butter from the fridge, counting out the lines before making a precision cut at the quarter-cup mark. He drains the pasta and adds in the ingredients, ending with the packet of cheese that brings it all together. My empty stomach painfully awaits the cheesy goodness. He fills two bowls and hands one to me. It’s a small kitchen with no table, so I opt to hop up and take a seat on the shiny countertop, crossing my legs and resting the warm bowl on my thighs.
“Spoon or fork?”
“Spoon.”
“A spoon girl.” He grins. “Me too. Spoon versus fork is always a controversy in my family when it comes to mac ’n’ cheese.”
“Spoon all the way.” I lift my spoon and clink it into his, then I scoop up the first delicious mouthful. I start to smile as I chew. Okay, this isn’t so bad. I was nervous about how this would go, but amazingly I’m feeling more at ease than I thought, and gobble up a second mouthful.
“So, um… split you like a log, I don’t even know where I got that from.”
Oh no. I stop chewing. No. Stop talking. Easy moment, come back. Please, please don’t go there.
“Maybe I got it from porn?” Oh God. He’s still going there. And no, he did not just say that. His face drops. “No, not porn. I don’t watch porn.” He tries to laugh it off but the forced chortle he snorts out only makes things worse. “Well, maybe sometimes.” He continues and I cough on some of the macaroni sliding down my throat. His hand rakes furiously through his hair; the front piece is now sticking straight up.
I have to say something. I need to say something. But I can’t. The pointy spike in his hair and panicked expression on his handsome face is just too much. Did this sexy, adorable, fact-loving nerd really just admit to watching porn? Laughter wells up inside me and even though I try hard to contain it, I just can’t. And before I know it, gales of gut grabbing laughter roll out of me. Moisture wets the corners of my eyes and I reach up to swipe at a few escaped tears.
“Go ahead, laugh. I clearly have issues.” He has a lopsided grin and actually begins to laugh along with me.
I breathe in through my nose and hold it, trying to contain any more laughter from coming out. It’s a hard force to fight against and a second round of giggles snort out.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to laugh.” I gasp with a slight hiccup. “It’s just, I’m the youngest in my family and sometimes my immaturity slips out.” My laughter finally dwindles as I remember that was one of the many reasons Tyler gave during our breakup. He called me childish. Even my smile vanishes. “And being the baby of the family sometimes I tend to act childish even though I’m in my twenties,” I apologize, using the same word Tyler labeled me with.
“Childish? No way. You’re silly. Fun. I love it. The fact that we’re able to sit here and laugh after all the weirdness we’ve been through speaks volumes.” His sincerity is endearing. Comforting. Refreshing. “I’m the baby, too. I have two brothers, and they’re quite a bit older than me.” He crooks his fingers into air quotes. “My mom calls me her ‘surprise.’ My brothers call me ‘the broken condom baby.’”
“That’s awful,” I say, but it brings a smile back to my face. “Is that who you were with the night I met you? I remember you were with two guys at the bar.”
“Yes, that was them. They’re the ones who kind of encouraged me to talk with you.” He shakes out a chuckle. “So much for brotherly advice.”
“They told you to lie about who you were?”
“No,” he corrects himself. “But they did encourage me to go back over to you, especially after we got a glimpse of your real date.”
“My real date?” I’m confused. “Are you saying Nick was there? You saw him? If he was there, why didn’t he come over?”
“Probably because he was too busy giving free breast exams at the bar to unwilling patients.” Matthew walks back over to the leftover macaroni on the stove and stirs the pot, both literally and metaphorically.
“That jackass.” I didn’t think it was possible for me to dislike Nick any more than I already did, but it seems I was wrong. “This is why I am done with dating.”
“You are?” His spoon clinks against the ceramic bowl. “Why?”
“Because I’m starting to think there’s no one out there for me,” I say, and then regret it when I hear the self-pity in my voice. I play with the macaroni still in my bowl before setting it down on the counter. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so pathetic. It’s just I ran into my ex tonight.” Matthew sets his bowl down next to mine. His arms cross over his chest and he leans back, giving me his full attention. “He’s engaged.” Saying it aloud hurts. “He found someone that makes him happy, who he can see a future with. And it’s not me. I wasn’t the right girl for him, but she is. Maybe I’m no one’s right girl.”
“That’s ridiculous. You are absolutely someone’s right girl. Brains, beauty, wit, and sex with you is absolutely mind-blowing.” The words fly out of his mouth. He even uses hand motions to signify a bomb going off in his head. The red that instantly begins to stain his face spreads all the way over to my own burning cheeks. My stomach even gives way to a few flutters. Why couldn’t I have met this guy under different circumstances?
“What about you?” I ask, moving the conversation along before it gets any more uncomfortable. “Are you dating anyone?” I can only assume the answer is no, since he brought me back to his place for some more “mind-blowing” sex.
“Not really.” His head rocks from side to side. “Although, I did kind of go on a date tonight.”
“Tonight?” My eyes snap up to meet his and the uncontrollable claws all women are born with instinctively come out. “What happened? It didn’t work out, or was I just the easy mark you were fortunate enough to stumble on after the good girl went home?” I can’t stop myself from meowing the words out like a catty bitch.
“Whoa. I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I just said that. It wasn’t like that at all.” He waves his hands and shakes his head. “It was Jeremy, the guy at the pizza place. The short guy, with the beard.”
“Wait… what?” What is he trying to tell me? My eyes dart around the kitchen. I don’t know where to look.
“It was nothing like that, it was just a big misunderstanding.”
“Yeah, sounds like it was a big one.”
“Well, misunderstandings are my specialty,” he says, raising a brow. I know he means this in a way that implies more than just Jeremy. He’s also talking about us.
“But I guess you cleared everything up because you were at the pizza place together.”
“We did. Fortunately, we were able to move right past it.”
“That’s awesome. Most guys would probably freak out over something like that.”
“It was just a kiss.” He waves it off.
“A kiss?” I clear my throat.
“Oh, um, yeah. There was a kiss.” He tenses but then relaxes, breaking into a grin that reaches all the way up to give a sparkle to his light eyes. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
He is.
He totally is.
“Um, maybe we should figure out the sleeping arrangements,” I say quickly, before the lust-induced heat rising to my face starts to deceive me. “I’m thinking your couch would be a comfy spot for me to crash.”
“No, you take my bed and I’ll sleep out here.”
“I’m not taking your bed. The couch is fine.” Now that my belly is filled with the proper hangover food, my eyes are getting heavy. “I just need a blanket and a pillow,” I say through a yawn.
He opens a closet and pulls out a pile of bedding and a pillow. I stand back and watch as he transforms his couch into a bed. Sheet on the bottom, tucked in neatly, a warm blanket next, with a fluffy comforter on top. He fluffs the pillow, places it down, and pulls the arranged bedding back in a neat little triangle.
“Wow, turndown service. I’ll have to make sure to leave a five-star review on Yelp.” I slip into the comfy makeshift bed and adjust the pillow. “No mint?”
“I think I have Tic Tacs,” he says. I have no freaking clue if he’s serious or not, so I just laugh and roll over on my side before he goes in search of Tic Tacs.
“Good night, Matthew.”
“Good night, Holly.”
“Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Of course. I’m….” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I don’t say anything and after a few seconds I hear his footsteps walking down his hall and the sound of water running for a shower of his own.
I’m stranded in a strange guy’s apartment. One I’ve already made the mistake of sleeping with once, and almost repeated that same mistake with again only two hours ago. This is a strange circumstance to be in. But I’m oddly comfortable.
Even though it probably shouldn’t, sleep comes easy.
“WHAT IS PLANKTON?”
“What is Toronto?”
“Who is James Earl Jones?”
The Daily Double pops u
p.
“Okay, okay. Don’t answer this one. Give me a chance, I think I know this.” Holly sits next to me on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, my t-shirt stretched over her bare legs. It’s entrancing, the adorable way she plays with her socks, pulling them up and scrunching them back down while she watches.
“Go ahead.”
“What is… calcium?” she says. Wrong. The answer is copper. The contestant also guesses calcium and gets it wrong. She looks at me and rolls her eyes, waiting for my answer.
“What is copper?” Alex Trebek and I both say at the same time.
“Did you watch this one already?” Her eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a suspicious grin.
“This one is new. I swear.” I place a hand on my heart and raise the other one up in oath.
We woke up to at least a foot of snow keeping us trapped inside. The world outside my window is a giant blanket of white. So far this morning, we’ve cooked breakfast together, played rummy, watched three episodes of Jeopardy!, and did this thing on her phone where we swapped faces. The forecast still calls for four to six more inches. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for even more.
Holly presses the buttons on my remote, bringing up my recorded shows on the screen. “I love that your entire DVR is filled with episodes of Jeopardy! and a documentary on the Ming Dynasty. Gee, nerd much?”
The Two-Night One-Night Stand Page 8