Page 58 of Hoax and Kisses
Fuck, fuck, fuck.Yes, me and Matt.You dufus.
“—othing too serious so far.” I swallow. “It’s very new.”
The lines on her face smooth out. “I’m glad to see him back to his happy self. He hasn’t been the same since Andie left.”
Andie. Am I supposed to know who that is? Would Matt tell a new girlfriend who Andie is?
I tap my card on top of the reader, and as I put it back in my pocket, I decide to reply with the truth. Isn’t that how the best lies begin? Stay as close to reality as possible? “He’s been a nice change for me too. Unexpected.”
“Unexpected always makes for the strongest relationships.” She nods like she uttered a well-known tidbit of wisdom that has been passed down from generation to generation.
I put the receipt in my jacket, the word sticking with me. Last night felt just like that. Unexpected. Everything about him was. The gentleness in his voice, his soothing touches, the solid weight of his body against mine. I could have stayed like that for another three or four movies, not bothered—for probably thefirst time in my life—about the clock or keeping myself together. Icried, for god’s sake. That, too, was unexpected.
I flash a half smile at Mia, who’s still watching me intently.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I tell her as I step away from the counter. “I’ll stop by tomorrow with the proposal.”
Back at my car, I slump behind the wheel, dropping the bag on the passenger seat, and stare through the windshield.
He hasn’t been the same since Andie left.
Mia’s statement pokes at me, prodding questions that are practically burning a hole in my tongue.
Who is Andie? Is she the ex with whom things ended badly? What did she do to you? What happened? Are you okay now?
Would he answer if I asked? Probably not. He’s been insistent when it comes to that absurd rule.
I can’t help but want to know more, and though I try to shake it, the strange feeling stays with me all the way to Matt’s place.
When I get there, the porch lights are off. I lean against the wheel, peering up at the closed curtains.
Are they still sleeping? Did I wake up early fornothing?
Ugh.
I’m here now, so I have to at least knock. I kill the engine, climb out, and stride to the front door, burying myself in my coat again.
I rap my knuckles on the solid wood and wait. If nobody answers after two minutes, I’ll drop the bag and leave.
Twenty seconds later, there’s a click, and the door opens.
On the other side, Matt’s eyes widen. “Zoey?” he scrubs at his face, his hair a wild mess. “W-what are you doing here?” He peers over his shoulder, then takes a step forward—barefoot—and pulls the door mostly shut behind him.
Okay, so he just woke up. No big deal. Nothing to get all worked up about, even though it feels like I’ve intruded on a very private moment of his life. Sleep still clings to his lashes,softening his face despite the marks left by his sheets. A well-worn white shirt hangs loosely on his chest and falls over a pair of gray sweatpants that donothing—or the lord’s work, depending on the point of view—to hide that he’s not wearing anything underneath.
I swallow, forcing my eyes up, and with my best smile plastered to my face, I jiggle the bag in my hand. “Breakfast is served?”
“You brought b—”
The sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs stops him. He mutters under his breath, turning toward the inside of the house. As the door flies open, his body goes rigid.
A girl wearing rose-print pajamas with hair as bright as the sun appears at Matt’s side. She looks to be about twelve, maybe thirteen. His sister, then.
Matt is rooted to the spot, a shadow of tension falling across his face. He drapes an arm over the girl’s shoulders and draws her close.
Damn. I’m only bringing breakfast, not weapons.
His sister inspects me from head to toe. “Your sweater is so pretty, but your shoes are ugly.”
