Page 32 of The Summer Intern

Matt's thumb grazed my cheekbone."Duly noted."

The engine roared to life.As we pulled onto Main Street, I pressed my forehead to the cold window."How'd you find me anyway?Got a Casey GPS chip?"

Headlights swept across Matt's profile."Would you believe I have a sixth sense for dramatic queers in crisis?"

"Romantic."My eyelids drooped.The world softened at the edges—the rhythmic tap of turn signals, the steady creak of Matt shifting gears.Somewhere between the post office and the craft brewery, my hand found his thigh.

"Still hate you," I mumbled into the plaid sleeve currently serving as my pillow.

The wheel turned.Warm fingers squeezed mine."I know."

Matt’s thumb kept tracing circles over my knuckles as we drove.Or maybe that was just the asphalt vibrating through the truck floor.Everything felt liquid and warm, like the universe had melted me into a human lava lamp.

“Y’know,” I said, forehead smooshed against the passenger window, “if you wanted alone time, coulda just asked instead of kidnapping me.”

“Oliver called Wade,” Matt said, downshifting as we passed the Welcome to Eagle Ridge population sign.“Wade called me.You’re welcome.”

I squinted at a passing streetlight halo.“Why would Ollie text…your hammer hammering guy?”

“Contractor.”

“Same difference.”Pine branches slapped the roof as we left downtown.“Since when do they have each other’s numbers?”

Matt shrugged.“Beats me.”

“Traitors.”I kicked my sneakers onto the dash.The laces were covered in neon smiley faces.Ollie had given them to me as a birthday gift.“So, what?You decided to stalk me?”

“Not stalk, I let you have your fun.I waited outside the bar until I saw you clinging to the stool like you might drown without it.”

“Rude.”I slumped lower, watching his forearm flex as he steered.“How much did Ollie pay you to babysit?I’ll double it.”

“Your brother cares about you.”

“He’s an asshole with a savior complex.”The trees outside thickened, swallowing the moonlight.We weren’t headed toward camp.This road tasted like gravel and loneliness, winding up into the mountains where cell service went to die.

Matt downshifted again.The engine growled.“You texted me twelve times.”

“Bullshit.”

“Several about my cock rings.”

Oh shit.My cheeks went pink as I tried to remember what I'd sent.“Delete those.”

He snorted.The truck bounced over a rutted path barely wider than the truck.When we emerged into a small clearing, the headlights illuminated an adorably miniature house, all rustic wood and glass.

“Holy shit.”I fumbled with the seatbelt.“It’s a Hobbit hole, but like, modern!”

Matt killed the engine.“Home sweet home.”

I kicked open the door and went to leap out, but it turned out my seatbelt was still buckled, springing me back against the seat.Muttering a curse, I poked at the button a few times, but it kept moving.Finally, Matt reached over and helped me, and I tumbled out.The trees around me swirled, and I put a hand on the truck to steady myself.

“You live here?”I walked over to the house and ran my hands over the siding.“It’s so…small.Like, TARDIS small.Is it bigger on the inside?”

“It’s 420 square feet.”Matt hauled me upright when I tripped over a step.Who put a step near the door, anyway?Stupid.

I hugged the cute house, rubbing my face on the shiny front window.“Marry me, tiny house.You’re very cute.”

“You’re drooling on my window.”

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