Page 4 of Breaking Matt
My phone started to ring and I opened an eye to glare at my bag. It continued to ring and I got up to fish my phone out of it.
"Hi, Mom," I answered, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. I adored my mother. She wasn't just a parent to me—she was also my best friend.
"Hi, sweetheart," she said, and the sound of her voice washed over me like a protective blanket easing all my worries.
"What's up?" I asked. We usually spoke first thing in the morning. She rarely phoned me in the afternoon.
"Nothing. Why? Can't your mom call you in the afternoon?"
There was something up. I could tell by the faintest sharpness to the tone of her voice. We shared everything. Why was she keeping something from me?
My mind ran wild with possible reasons.
"You know I love talking to you anytime," I told her cautiously. There were so many times I was grateful she was my mother. It made up for the lack of closeness I had with my father. He was the head of the family and issued orders like a drill sergeant.
My mother always explained his shortcomings on the fact he'd been raised in a family where there hadn't been a lot of affection or emotion. It wasn't something I could imagine and I felt sorry it had stunted my father emotionally.
"I just wanted to find out how your day went," she said. She was lying—I could hear it in her voice. There was an edge of worry that most people wouldn't pick up on but I knew my mom too well to fall for it.
Was she calling to make sure I was okay? Was there a reason I wouldn't be? There was a part of me that wanted to know, but there was also the part that didn't. Ignorance was bliss.
There had been so many times there had been a threat that had never actually materialized. So many times I had been worried and scared of something that had never happened. I wasn't going to allow that to happen again.
So I let it go and didn't directly ask her what was going on. Instead, I walked around the room talking to my mom about what she'd been up to and what color she had decided to repaint the house.
I didn't tell her too much about my day other than the college work I was busy with. It was the ideal opportunity to mention Ryan, but I stopped myself. It would just stress her out more and I didn't want her to worry. Besides, I wasn't convinced he was anything other than an annoying ex-boyfriend who was struggling to get the message that I wasn't interested in him anymore. I didn't believe for one moment he would harm me.
Chapter Two
Friday Night
Ugh!I thought to myself as I ducked into a nearby room, closing the door quietly behind me. I was hiding from my ex. He was looking for me and I couldn't stand to be around him. Not for one more second. I had reached the end of my patience. If he found me now there was no telling what I would do and say to him.
Enough is enough!There would be no diplomacy or tact in what I would unleash on him. I leaned against the door as I briefly closed my eyes. This was beyond frustrating.
Even setting him up with a beautiful girl from one of my classes hadn't worked. Vicky had been interested when I had suggested Ryan. I was convinced she would be enough to capture his attention, but he hadn't even given her a second look. I crossed my arms as my feelings of frustration gave way to anger.
I didn't like that someone could impact my life the way he was. I was used to making my own decisions and doing what I wanted when I wanted.
Taking the fact I was hiding out in a stranger's room while I could hear music playing through the house notched my anger up. I should have been downstairs with Matthew, who had been talking to another girl when Ryan had found me.
It didn't help that I was feeling out my depth with Matthew. Things hadn't gone according to plan. If I was honest, my plan had completely failed. The first day he hadn't called I reasoned he didn't want to seem too interested. By the next day I was feeling nervous. By the third I was questioning whether I had imagined his interest.
I wasn't used to waiting around for a guy. They usually fell all over me. I was attractive and was used to guys hitting on me.
I had long dark hair with dark-brown eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes that brought out my eyes. I was a younger version of my mother.
There had been a moment of realization earlier that I was in a situation I had never experienced before—and I didn't like it one bit. He had caught me off guard and I struggled with what to do next. It would have been easier to walk away and admit defeat, but I was too stubborn for that.
I kept the distance between us, refusing to look in his direction. But nothing I did seemed to follow the path that others had walked before. He was an anomaly.
The girl in me wanted me to go up to him and find out why, but the determined part refused to give in to it. It would be showing a weakness for him. I understood guys well. If I came on too strong it would send him scattering in the opposite direction.
Playing harder to get was the way to go. So for the last week I had controlled every slight look in his direction, making sure not to meet his eyes. It wasn't like I would have ignored him if he'd made the move to talk to me, but he hadn't.
When the night of the party had arrived, I had felt nervous about the night that lay ahead. Usually I was confident and sure of myself—but for once I wasn't. I only had doubts. I had no way of knowing whether my tactics had worked or if I might have pushed him in the opposite direction.
How long did I need to stay here? I checked my watch. I'd been hiding for five minutes. I paced in the small room, trying to figure out what to do about my annoying ex and the sexy stranger who didn't seem to be interested in me.
