by Aven Ellis
Of course, this goes both ways. I like Matt. I always have. He’s sweet and charming and I can’t deny he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but really, when I put aside my crush, how could Matt be for me? How on earth could we match up in the real world and not the one I envision in my romantic writer’s head? How could Matt give me what I need?
But right now he’s proving to be exactly what I need, my heart whispers.
“How long have you had social anxiety?” Matt asks quietly, interrupting my thoughts.
“For as long as I can remember,” I answer. “Nobody knows about it. Except for you.”
Matt stares at me for a moment as my words hit him. “You mean . . . Nate doesn’t even know?”
“No.”
“Your parents? Best friends?”
“Nobody. I’m ashamed of it. And I’m even more ashamed that you had to witness it.”
He puts his hand over mine again, catching me off-guard. My body shivers the second I feel his warmth.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Matt says, squeezing my hand. “Everybody is fighting something. All those people in that party are facing their own problems, whether you can see them or not.”
Matt is talking to me in a whole new way tonight. There’s more between us in this conversation. It’s not all fun and light, like when I usually talk with him. There’s a depth to Matt. This is not the party boy he projects to the world. I’ve seen glimpses of this Matt before, when he and I were alone talking. Those few glimpses fueled my whole crush on him in the first place.
But this? The words coming out of his mouth tonight? The way he guided me through this attack?
This is different.
“And what are you fighting?” I ask quietly.
Matt blinks. “Me?”
“You.”
“Come on, what could I possibly fight? I’m playing hockey for the top team in the league, I get paid a stupid amount of money to do it, I have a great house, and I know how to have a good time. No demons. Except for my teammates in there,” he adds, smiling as he cocks his head in the direction of the estate.
“You just said everyone has something,” I challenge.
Matt goes silent and releases my hand, and I know I’ve pushed too far. There is a demon he’s fighting, but he’s not ready to share that yet.
“If you ever want to talk about that demon, Matt, I’m here,” I say softly.
Matt stares back at me. “I know you are.”
A gust of frozen wind sweeps across us, yet I don’t want to move an inch. My heart is pounding again, but this time not out of fear.
Suddenly I hear my cell phone from behind the row of boxwoods.
“My purse,” I remember. “I dropped it over there. And I’m sure it’s Nate asking me where I am.”
“Can you face going back inside?” Matt asks.
“Not yet,” I say.
“Okay. But when you are, I’m going in with you. And I’m not going to leave your side tonight, Holly. You’re not in this alone anymore. Because starting right here, right now, I’m in this with you. And we’re going to face it together.”
Chapter 3
I search Matt’s eyes and see nothing but sincerity in them. Emotion wells up in me as I realize he means it. He wants to help me cope with this party. He’s not going to let me face it alone, and he’s determined to stay by my side to help me get through it.
But as much as I want him to, I can’t ask him to do this.
“Matt,” I say, my voice shaking, “you don’t have to give up your evening to babysit me.”
“I wouldn’t call this babysitting.”
“It is.”
Matt doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he lifts his hands and leans in closer to me, and to my complete surprise, he slowly removes my glasses. He places them next to his leg on the bench and turns back toward me. I hold my breath as I see him hesitate, and then he places his fingertips against my tears.
My heart slams inside my chest the second I feel his rough skin against mine. Matt sweeps my tears away with the gentlest of touches, a move so sweet and so kind I tear up all over again.
“I’m doing this because I want to,” Matt says. Then I see a sparkle enter his eyes. “And babysitting? Well, that I’d have to charge you for because that’s harder. You know, like I’d have to make sure you didn’t pull stuff off of coffee tables, play with matches, eat medication, that kind of stuff. Now I’d be happy to provide that service if you want it, but that will cost extra.”
I laugh. The first laugh I’ve had since I arrived here.
“There,” Matt says, smiling at me. “That’s better.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That felt good.”
“Do you think you can go back in?”
I hesitate for a moment. I don’t want to, but I doubt I’ll have another attack now.
“I think so,” I say. “And you won’t have to hang around me long. I’m tired. Those attacks are physically draining, so I can tell Nate that and leave. I’m sure I look like crap now.”
“You don’t, Holly. You look beautiful,” Matt says.
I snort. “Right. I’ve cried. I know I’m blotchy. My eye makeup is no doubt a hot mess. And I had sweat rolling off me like I ran a marathon. Very, very, attractive.”
“You were sweating?” Matt asks, a curious tone etched in his voice.
Can I say anything more stupid to Matt?
Can I?
Um, nope. I’ve pretty much run the table on stupid tonight.
I clear my throat. “Um, my attacks have several symptoms. I get a tight chest. Breathing is hard. I begin sweating. And then my eye twitches. It’s very glamorous. And I’ve sweated in your jacket,” I admit, cringing. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll have it dry cleaned and brought back to you as soon as possible.”
Matt studies me. “You think I care about that?”
“It’s gross.”
“It’s sweat,” he emphasizes. “Being an athlete, I’m an expert in it.”
“But that’s your own sweat!”
“Are we really going to argue about sweat?”
I catch his eye, and we both laugh.
“I’ve gotten two laughs out of you now. I’m on fire,” Matt teases.
He hands me back my glasses. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” I say, placing them back on. As soon as I do, Matt comes into crystal-clear focus.
He’s gorgeous.
Stop. Stop it. He’s being nice because you had a meltdown, and nothing more.
But he is hot.
I cough to shake the ridiculous thought from my head. This panic attack has clearly rattled me tonight, and I’m tripping down the path of delusion as a result.
Matt stands up and extends his hand to me. I put mine in his, the butterflies shifting from the sensation of it, and he draws me upright.
“Thank you,” I say, gazing up at him.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
Nothing is said for a moment. Another north wind cuts across us, this one with more bite to it, and my hair streams across my face. I reach up to brush it back, and I notice the wind has caused a wavy lock of Matt’s golden blond hair to sweep deliciously across his forehead.
I want to fix it.
I want to touch him, if only on the pretense of fixing his hair.
“Um, your hair,” I say, tilting my head.
“Messed up?”
“Um, yes.” And before I can slap down this urge I have, I step in closer. I reach up and delicately sweep the errant curl off his forehead and back into place.
Every nerve I have comes alive the second I touch him. I let my fingertips linger over his soft, silky locks. I also realize
what I thought was his cologne is really his hair product, which has a wonderfully rich and spicy scent.
Matt’s eyes widen the second I brush his hair. I remove my hand, and instantly, I miss the intimacy of touching him.
But now at least I’ll have this memory. Although nothing will ever happen between us, I’ve shared this moment with him. This conversation. His hands over mine. Matt’s fingertips wiping away my tears. And now I know what his hair feels like. What he smells like.
I know it’s going to be forever imprinted on my brain.
But the hard part is, it’s going to be impossible to forget.
“Sorry,” I say, not meaning it at all.
“No, it’s okay,” Matt says. “I didn’t mind.”
Another silence falls between us, and I’m acutely aware of the hammering of my heart.
My phone rings again.
“I think we need to go back inside,” Matt urges.
“Okay,” I say, gathering up my courage.
Matt gestures for me to walk first, so I do, but the whole time my heart is trying to process everything that happened. How Matt took care of me during that panic attack. He wasn’t scared off by it. How he comforted me, reassured me, wanted to help me.
I locate my purse, but before I can retrieve it, Matt bends down and grabs it for me.
“Here,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the clutch from him. I open it up and retrieve my phone, accessing my messages. “Oh crap. One from Nate, and one from CiCi asking me when she should expect to see me.”
“CiCi scares me.”
I glance up at him and laugh. “What? She’s amazing! CiCi is hilarious.”
“If you say so,” Matt says.
“What don’t you like about her?” I ask, intrigued. “That she’s a strong woman?”
“No, I happen to like strong women,” Matt says. “But she’s like a CIA agent. She knows everything.”
I have a flashback to CiCi running her operation on Casino Night to get Lexi and Niko together. Oh, Matt has no idea how close to the mark he is with that comment.
“Come on, let’s go,” Matt urges.
We walk up to the French doors, and I draw one deep breath of air before I open them. The sounds of the party greet me. I feel Matt’s fingertips against the small of my back. And I know he’s communicating to me that he’s here. Behind me. I’m not alone.
“Darling, where have you been?”
I turn and see CiCi striding over to me, dressed in a stunning black cocktail gown.
“Hello, CiCi,” I say, smiling at her.
CiCi leans in and gives me a quick hug. Then she spots Matt behind me, and her eyes focus in on him.
“You’re wearing his jacket?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.
Gah!
“It’s cold outside,” Matt says.
“You two were outside together?” CiCi presses.
“Just catching up,” Matt says. “We go way back. Don’t we, Holly?”
“Yes, we do. I’ve known Matt since I was nineteen,” I say.
CiCi shifts her gaze between the two of us.
“I see,” she says slowly. Then she smiles at Matt. “Matt, would you be a love and get me another cocktail? Something with champagne would be delightful.”
Matt hesitates. I know he doesn’t want to leave my side.
“I’ll be here with CiCi,” I say, nodding. “I’m fine.”
“Um, okay,” Matt says, raking a hand through his curls. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you,” CiCi calls out to him. Then she places her arm through the crook of my elbow and escorts me over to the dessert table, dipping her head toward mine.
“Now that I’ve gotten rid of him we can talk,” she says into my ear. “The blond one likes you.”
Heat fills my cheeks. “Oh, no, Matt is just being nice.”
“You were outside talking to him,” CiCi says, stopping at the elaborate dessert buffet and handing me a plate.
I take it but don’t look her in the eye. Instead, I pretend to study an amazing tower of puff pastries adorned with spun sugar. “We know each other, that’s all.”
“It’s more than that,” CiCi says as she puts fruit on my plate. “I can see it in the way you look at each other.”
“What?” I ask, stunned.
Oh, no, is it on my face? What if Matt can see it? He would flip. He’s nice to me, but to know I had a crush on him would make this whole situation . . . A Disney Channel tween show.
Damn it.
“CiCi, we aren’t a match in any way,” I say, watching as she puts a mini tart on my plate. “He likes a very different kind of girl. One that is nothing like me.”
“Does he? Or does he go after what he can have instead of what he wants?”
What?
I open my mouth to say more, but Matt has returned with a cocktail in his hand.
“Nate said you liked this,” Matt says, handing a champagne flute to CiCi. Then he turns to me. “I told Nate you’ve been here. I admitted I’ve been monopolizing your time, but you’ll see him in a few minutes.”
I snap out of my thoughts for a moment. Matt did that to take care of explaining things to Nate. It was a thoughtful thing to do.
One driven out of concern for me.
Oh my God, could CiCi be right?
My head is spinning as I try to sort through this.
“Thank you, Matthew,” CiCi says, smiling at him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must talk to Kenley about these tarts. I think the piping is not exactly the way it should be, and they must be pulled. I don’t do unsightly tarts. Have a great evening, and thank you for coming.”
One look at the tarts and I know CiCi is making that up because they’re absolutely flawless.
“Thank you, CiCi,” I say, smiling back at her.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Matt bends down toward me. “See?”
See? No. Because all I can do is smell his hair, and it’s incredibly distracting.
“See what?”
“She sees everything,” Matt says. “Piping on tiny tarts? Nothing gets past that woman. Nothing.”
CiCi made up the bit about the tarts. But could she be right about Matt?
No. That’s impossible. CiCi must have had too many champagne cocktails. That comment makes no sense.
“Holly?”
I blink. Matt is standing up, staring at me.
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“Are you okay?” Matt asks.
“I’m tired,” I say, trying to sweep all these crazy thoughts out of my head. “That’s all.”
“So what’s our plan for tonight?”
“Our plan?” I repeat.
“Well, you probably have to talk to some people, but then you want to leave, right? What would be your ideal thing to do after you get out of here?”
“I want pizza,” I blurt out. “I want to change into a T-shirt and yoga pants and eat pizza and watch those bad New Year’s Eve countdown shows on TV. That’s my plan.”
“Our plan, you mean. I told you I’m sticking by you tonight,” Matt says, his eyes never leaving mine.
“But Matt! It’s New Year’s Eve! The biggest party night of the year. I’ll be fine at home. Your duty ends as soon as I get into my car to leave.”
“No. I told you, Holly, we’re doing this night together. If you want pizza, I’m in. Those shows are a complete kick to the balls, but if you want to watch, I’m still in. But we need to drink champagne with our pizza so we have something to celebrate New Year’s Eve besides suffering through a painful countdown on TV.”
My heart is pounding again. “You’re serious,” I say aloud.
> “I am,” Matt says. “Unless you don’t want me to be. It’s up to you, Holly. Do you want to spend New Year’s Eve with me? The choice is yours.” He pauses for a moment then adds, “But I hope the answer is yes.”
Chapter 4
I stare at Matt, stunned by his offer. No. There’s no way he means this. Matt, known for partying his way across Dallas at all the chicest nightspots in town, wants to eat pizza and watch Ryan Seacrest with me?
“I can’t let you do this,” I say, taking a moment to park my full dessert plate on a table next to me. “This is not how you want to spend your New Year’s Eve, I know that. You’ve been so good to me tonight, you’ve already done more than enough. Please go to Harrison’s and then do whatever you have planned. You should enjoy the rest of your night.”
To my surprise, I see anger flicker across his handsome face.
“No offense, Holly, but you have no idea what I want to do,” Matt says, his voice edged in frustration. “Everyone thinks they know me, but they don’t. So what if they see me out having a good time? I’m twenty-one. But everyone forgets that. And more to the point, do pictures of me in a bar mean that’s all I’m about? No. I get so damn tired of people judging me like this.”
I’m shocked by his reply. Matt has never shown any kind of anger in a conversation we’ve had before.
For once, he’s letting his true feelings out.
And he’s done it with me.
“I’m going to challenge you on that,” I say. “Yes, it’s okay to go out and have a good time, but you do it a lot. And whether you like it or not, your moves are going to be documented by the public and shown on social media because you’re a hockey superstar.”
“What am I supposed to do? Stay at home and stare at the walls? If I were on a college campus right now, I’d be normal.”
“But you’re not. And as you said, you’re paid a stupid amount of money to be a professional hockey player. This is part of that exchange.”
Matt is silent for a moment. I know I’m saying things to him his partying friends won’t. But after what we went through together on the terrace, I feel like I can.