This is fun. Let’s try again.
Lowering my eyes, I search for a table holding glasses filled with amber-colored, or darker, fluid. If I can see through the sauce, it’s not worth a second look. At the very least, it should be cloudy like a darker wheat flavor. Seriously, there are over a hundred brewskis to choose from at this place, and so few people drink anything better than what equates to Budweiser. Why bother? Why not stay home and get an 18-pack of Natural Light for like two bucks?
The next table is filled with samplers. A tray of 8 small glasses of different beers. This could go one of two ways. Experienced drinkers looking to try something new. Or inexperienced drinkers who don’t know any better. No, I’ll pass on this table. I look up. Damn, I shouldn’t have. These guys are good looking. But a few of them haven’t touched the darker varieties so they’re definitely out of the question.
Moving on.
Tables full of women. No. Not for me.
Keep looking. Take your time.
Bingo! Man hands. I spy man hands. Some tan, some light. But strong hands, with long fingers resting or tapping on the table. One glass looks to be filled with a Hef—my assumption based on the lemon floating inside. Bars pair a Hef with lemons, I use an orange. So much better. Another glass looks like maybe a Newcastle.
Jackpot!
The last pint is topped off with what looks like a Black & Tan. The distinct layers of two different beers can be seen from way over here. This is the one and only time a pale ale is allowed—when mixed with a stout. The bartender did an expert pour. I'm dying to take a peek and see if there's a shamrock embossed in the head at the top of the glass. I’m in love with the owner of this tall boy. I want this man. I want to marry him and have his babies. I want to suck the foam off his upper lip, just like I did my own.
I blink hard and my mouth waters. I’m afraid to look up. Please don’t be ugly. Please be at least semi-cute. My eyes begin to take in my future husband at his waist. A piece of his shirt is tucked in the front, out in the back. Comfort is a priority to him. I like it. He wears a worn Claremont McKenna tee, not fitted but tight enough for me to make out his muscular chest. Educated. My man went to college. Not just anyone would sport CM gear.
“Did you find him?” Mel asks. She knows. She can see the hunger in my eyes.
I look down for a moment.
“I’m scared to look,” I tell her.
Mel snorts. “Can’t be worse than the guy with elephantitis or the guys with the cosmos.”
“Here goes nothing,” I say, picking my head up slowly.
My mouth drops. And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Mel senses my concern. “What is it, Shel? Is he a dog?”
“He’s.” I blink. “He’s.” I try to swallow even though my mouth has gone dry.
Mel puts her hand on mine. “He’s what, Shel?”
“He’s. Matty.”
Chapter Six
When I look up again, at the man I thought was going to be my soul mate, our eyes meet, and he smiles. Worries subside instantly, and I smile right back. What am I supposed to do? Run? No, I’m going to enjoy this. He passed my test. And honestly, the thought of going somewhere else makes me want to fall into a beer induced coma, and the thought of man-hunting for the rest of the night makes me want to poke out my eyes with a corkscrew. I’m fried for tonight. If talking to Matty will get me home and off to sleep sooner rather than later, then so be it. He can help distract Mel from our search for the next top man in my life.
I watch him say something to one of his friends and strut over to our table.
“Hey, ladies,” Matty says, tipping his glass at us. “What brings you out tonight?”
“Beer,” I say, jokingly. “Needed some beer. Lots of beer.”
“That’s it?” Matty questions. “You both have the out for blood look in your eyes, like you’re on the prowl.” He jokingly roars like a kitty.
Mel shrugs him off with a chuckle. “I’m married, Matt.” She holds up her left hand.
“Okay, but there’s nothing wrong with window shopping. You can look but you can’t take any of the goods home.” Matty winks at her, and turns to me “How about you, Shel?”
Mel interrupts, telling him, “We’re looking for the man of Shel’s dreams.”
Matty turns his attention to me again. “Any luck?”
“It’s been hard you know, to find the man of one’s dreams based on beer selection.” Mel explains, again stealing Matty’s gaze from mine. It’s okay though because having him near me makes me want to do things to him I shouldn’t even be considering.
A chuckle escapes him. “Shel, that’s hysterical. Dating a pale ale guy is simply out of the question for you, huh?” He shakes his head, but he’s amused. The way he smiles with his whole face is adorable. When Chase smiled, there were times you couldn’t even tell if he was genuinely happy, or just putting on a show. But with this sweet man, even with a soft smile, just the slightest lift in his mouth, you can see his happiness in his eyes, his cheeks, and the tilt of his head. He doesn’t give off any fake vibes. Whatever you sense from him is always real.
“Hey, there are just some things I can’t get passed. Some girls can't stand a guy with girly hands, or guys who don't wear socks, or men who wear ascots. Shitty brew just happens to be a deal breaker for me,” I explain. It dawns on me Matty knows my taste in beer. I smile at the thought. A flood of giddiness creeps over me, and I can’t stop smiling at him. I’m trying to hold back, but it’s not working. Why fight it, right?
Matty sits on the edge of one of the empty seats, and takes another swig of his darkly colored beer. “So a guy could be like nasty looking. I’m talking warts on his nose, big ole ears, and dandruff flaking out of his hair, and as long as he was drinking, let’s say, Guiness, he’d fall in the 'man of your dreams' category?” he asks, lifting his arms to hang his air quotes.
I laugh at his list of yucky traits. Looking into his crystal blue eyes, I tell him, “Yes.”
“But what if said Guiness was perfectly matched in a pint with a lighter beer … such as Bass?” Matty lowers his eyes at me in anticipation of my response.
I lean forward in my seat, lost in his playful gaze. “Even better.”
Mel stands up and tugs her bag over her shoulder. She puts her hand on Matty’s arm and says, “Lucky for you, you’re gorgeous and you have a glass full of both those beers.” She coughs and rubs her throat. “I’m not feeling well.” She coughs again. “Mr. Fuller, can you please give Ms. Gelson a ride home?”
Parked outside my condo, Matty and I are strangely silent. Usually, our conversations are non-stop like Rory and Lorali on Gilmore Girls, except we’re far from a mother and daughter duo. I begin digging around in my bag for my keys to break the awkward spell that has occupied us for at least an entire song.
Matty turns his body toward me. “I’m glad you let me bring you home tonight.”
“It’s not like I had much choice. Mel practically ran out of there. She didn’t even say goodbye. Bitch.” Grinning, I think of my dear friend. She sure knows how to set things up. She knows this situation I’m in right now would’ve never happened if left up to me. I’d probably be curled up on her sofa with a bottle of beer in my hand watching Lifetime movies with her. I’m not sure if I want to hug her, or slap her silly. “So what were you up to tonight, before you got stuck babysitting?”
“I met some of my buddies from undergrad for a drink. Nothing big.”
It hits me. “Oh shit, Matty, you didn’t even say goodbye to them. I’m sorry.”
“No worries. I’m sure they could figure it out.” My eyes shoot up to meet his. What does that mean? “I mean, you know. I doubt they’re offended or worried.”
I punch him in the arm. “So you thought you were gonna walk over to us looking all cute, take me home and have your way with me like some sorority girl in heat, huh?”
“Well, not the ‘in heat’ part.” He bursts out laughing. I punch him ag
ain but laugh right along with him.
“Since I ruined your night out with the boys, do you wanna come in? You know I have a well-stocked fridge. It’ll be just like the bar, you can even tip me if you want.”
“Yeah. Why not. Beats sitting in the car all night with you punching me.”
We both head toward the kitchen. I stop in the hallway to kick off my heels, and Matty goes for the fridge. This shouldn’t be weird. He’s been here many times. He hands me a beer and settles in on one of my bar stools. I hop up on the counter and rest against the cabinets. Taking a small sip, I feel self-conscious. I know he’s watching me.
Glancing back at him, the corners of my mouth turn upward in a slight smile. So this is different. Every other time Matty’s been to my house was when Chase lived here too. He hasn’t been here since I started thinking of him. In a different light. Now, it’s just the two of us. Alone. I’m not engaged. He’s not … engaged or otherwise seeing someone. It’s just Matty. Me. And my thoughts. Dirty. Naughty. Thoughts.
I have a sudden interest in him strutting over, standing right in front of me, wrapping my legs around his back, and pulling him into me. It’s only after he rips off my panties and unbuckles his pants. The image is so vivid, it’s like I can feel him thrusting against me. My thighs twitch with the rising heat between my legs and I have to cross them to hold back a feeling of thought provoking pleasure. Does that ever happen in real life or only in the slew of romance novels that have been filling the space in my bed every night since Chase left?
“Whatever you’re thinking, it must be good,” Matty says, grinning.
My face gets hot, and it’s like he’s been reading my mind. “Well, you know. A woman can do a lot with an imagination.” I wiggle my brows at him, and a subtle grin spreads across his mouth.
Matty takes a swig of his beer, and sets it down on the counter. He runs his hand through his thick messy hair and smiles. I can’t take my eyes off his mouth as he takes the few steps needed to stand before me. “A man can do a lot with his imagination too.” Placing his palms flat on my thighs, his touch is like a flame burning through my skin and my temperature rises, he gazes into my eyes and I inhale a deep breath. I try to relax in anticipation of what’s coming next, even though I'm sure he can hear my heart beating right out of my chest. He glances at my mouth and murmurs, “But it doesn’t get fun until he makes it a reality.”
His face is less than two inches away from mine. I can feel his breath on me and my head whirls with excitement. I gaze down at his lips and lean in, closing the gap between us. Matty puts his right hand to my cheek, then runs it through my hair, sweeping my long bangs out of my face. He pauses, his eyes studying every part of my face as if he's seeing me for the very first time. His hand moves to the nape of my neck and sends a rush of heat down my spine. Then he tugs at my nape to guide me in for our very first kiss.
Our lips barely touch, yet the sensation of pleasure spreads like rapid fire soaring through every cell in my body. I back away to get a glimpse of him. His eyes smile at me and instantly I’m relaxed and at home with him. He tugs on the back on my neck again, and this time the kiss lingers as his mouth presses against mine. A few soft pecks turn into harder ones before my lips part, and his tongue teases at caressing mine. He drags his tongue across my top lip, and I let out a slight whimper as my legs hug his ass, reeling him closer. With hands full of his sandy blonde hair, I’m awestruck at how soft and sexy it is. Tugging gently at his lower lip with my teeth, he lets out a groan and squeezes my ass. My tongue trails the outline of his lips and then I take him in for another fierce, heavy-breathing, smooch fest.
Our tongues slide against each other, mingling in a new form of communication for two adults who were once just good friends. I can sense his feelings for me in the way he softly tangles his tongue with mine and the gentle tug of my hair.
My girl parts throb against the hardness in the front of his pants, and I have an odd sense of awareness of how exciting it is to make out with a man as I sit on my kitchen counter pinned against my cabinets.
Making out is so much fun. I can’t remember the last time Chase and I kissed like this.
Shit, trying to push Chase as far from my thoughts as possible, I wrap my legs around Matty tighter. He holds me closer, embracing me with his strong arms as we kiss till my lips are swollen and my chin is stinging from his stubble. Fighting the need to take a big breath, I close my mouth and our lips meet once more for a lip-locked kiss, and a series of short pecks.
“Wow, Matty,” I say, returning my gaze to his and running my fingers through his locks.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he responds, holding me again in a tight embrace. I hug him, resting my head on his shoulder. We’re silent in this hold for what seems like hours, soaking in the happiness yet worrying about what comes next. Awkwardness? More kissing? Sex? Regret?
“Matty,” I mutter into his shirt.
He releases me and pecks me on the cheek. “Yes, Shelly.”
“What do you think about this?”
He kisses me again, on the lips. “About this?”
“Yes. About that.”
And another one on the other cheek. “I think it’s great. I’m having fun. You?”
This time, I kiss him. “Yes. Yes, I am. But that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” He sighs. “I just wanted to enjoy the moment.”
“Moment? Are you saying this is it?” My face heats with embarrassment. Maybe he didn't feel what I just felt. Maybe I was interpreting his signals wrong.
“Well isn’t that what you’re getting at? We can’t do this, I’m not ready for a relationship, yada yada yada.” He holds my hands in his and looks at me intently, not turning away.
“Well, maybe. I don’t know. I really wanted this to happen. I think I’ve always been curious about kissing you, what it’d be like to be an ‘us’. But you’re one of my best friends. This is fun, and I really like you. But what if it doesn’t work? We have to see each other every day. It’ll be weird and I don’t wanna lose a friend.”
Giving my hands a squeeze, he says, “I’m not going anywhere, Shel. I knew you were going to say all this and I actually had a big ol’ speech planned if it came to this point. So let me give you the short version.” He pauses to bring his lips to mine again. Our lips connect sending tingles from my mouth to my toes and back up again. “I know you just felt that. And I don’t think it’s just pure hormones talking either. We’re old enough to tell a fucking awesome kiss from one you can’t wait to be finished with. When I kiss you,” he touches the pad of his thumb to my bottom lip, “I don't want to stop.”
I remove his hand so I can think clearly. “Maybe it’s just tonight, though. What about tomorrow? And the next day?”
“I don’t know, but why not see where this takes us?”
His warm breath spreads across my neck, his lips brushing against me as I utter, “That sounds great and all, but honestly, I don’t really think I’m ready for a relationship just yet.”
“Then let’s not call it one. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company. You can even see other people if you want so this doesn’t feel too relationship-y for you.” Feeling his lips touch my neck sends all common sense out the window. “What do you say, Ms. Gelson? Are we going to not have a relationship?”
“I think I’d like that, Mr. Fuller.” My arms wrap around his neck and round two of passionate kissing begins.
When we finally come up for air again, we’re lying on my sofa wrapped around each other. Our legs are intertwined, my hands are on his well-built chest, and his hands graze and singe the skin on my lower back. I could very well get used to having his soft hands all over me.
“Do you wanna stay, Matty?”
Instantly, his eyes dart to mine. “Really?”
“Yes, but not in the way you think?” I lower my head, sure that I’m blushing.
“Okay, I’d love to stay with you but what are you thinking?” He runs his
fingers through the back of my hair so tenderly I’m not afraid to ask for what I want.
“This. I want to sleep with you, in your arms, in jammies, like this.” I pause. “And that’s it.”
Holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifts it so my eyes stare into his. His eyes soften, so sincere, and he says, “I’d love to.” He starts to unravel himself from me and we make our way to my bedroom, hand in hand.
“Give me a minute,” I tell him as I go into the bathroom to change my clothes, wash my makeup off, and brush my teeth.
When I return, he’s sitting on my bed with his shirt and shoes off. His bare chest is enough to send me into fits of hunger. His skin is tan and his muscles are on display even though he’s not trying to flex. His shoulders are strong and broad, narrowing down to his slim waist. He rises to his feet and I sigh as I take in the full sight of him. This isn’t the same body I remember from when we first met at work five years ago. He was so skinny and lanky then. Now, he is a grown man, gorgeous one at that, and he’s standing right in front of me. I press my palms to his chest, placing them just above his hard nipples. Leaning down, he kisses me on the forehead. He clasps his hands around mine and brings them to his lips, touching them softly to my fingertips. “My turn.” He steps around me and disappears into the bathroom. Blowing hair out of my face, I allow myself to exhale and try to calm down from the obvious tension and attraction between us.
I’m already in bed when he returns, facing the door so I can see he’s only clothed in black boxer briefs. Calvin Klein from what I can read on the wide band. Oh my! I have my own version of the Mark Wahlberg underwear ads about to get into my bed, and I just told him all I want to do with him is sleep.
Holy shit. I need to think of something other than this beautiful man before me, or I swear we’ll be naked and doing the nasty in a matter of seconds. Fighting the urge to have sex with him was a lot easier before I saw him in his chonies. Ok, Shel, get your mind out of his pants and think of something unattractive. Hmm. Work. What’s happening at work? Fuck work. Umm. Lord of the Flies. Oh shit. Matty is fucking hot. A bunch of sniveling adolescent boys. Piggy. The conch. Okay, my thoughts are simmering.
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