Page 19 of Matthias's Protective Embrace
“Are you sure?”
It’snot a no, which is more than I expect.
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.” I reach for his phone. “Let me give you my number. I can text you with a door code so you can get in and out.” Obviously, my self-control is broken this morning. As hesitant as Frank is, he hands over his phone and watches as I text myself.
“Um, thanks. For… all of it. I’m gonna go.” I want to hold him hostage here a little longer to feed him and make sure he rests. Instead, I listen as he collects his stuff and stomps toward the back door. Within seconds, he’s let himself out. I wait in the kitchen, staring at his still-full cup of coffee until I hear his car start and drive away.
FRANK
It’s a toss-up on what’s more awkward. Hanging out in the kitchen of the guy who nursed you back to health after finding you half dead in his backyard or facing my parents after staying out all night.
I’m twenty-fucking-four. If I want to spend Friday night fucking every man and woman I can find at a club, then so be it.
Not at home, though, because, eww. I donotneed my parents to hear any of that.
At someone else’s place, though? I could. I have. Not recently. Largely because I’m drained at the end of the day. But I’m also tired of hook-up culture. I need more. I want an actual connection with a person, something that goes beyond a quick fuck. Someone who wants me around… wants to take care of me.
I pull my cell phone from my pocket. Fully charged because Matthias plugged it in. That shouldn’t be the kind of sweet shit that gets the butterfliesin my stomach going, but it is. The fact that he had a charger for it is a miracle. My phone is old and doesn’t use the same charger as everyone else’s. Annoying, but the phone is paid for and works fine. As long as you don’t ask it to stay charged for more than four hours, reliably use any app created in the last five years, or any of the fancy messaging systems.
“Where were you? Your mother was worried.”
Yeah, real worried. So worried that no one called or texted. I know because I checked on the way home. The only messages were in the group chat for my study group. It seems like they had a better Friday night than I did. Everyone’s hungover and wants to move our Saturday session back to Sunday. Apparently, the cold weather means soccer’s off the table. If only there was an app that would tell them the weather in advance to help with those kinds of decisions. A comment I keep to myself when I agree to the change.
“I stayed with a friend.” Mostly not a lie.
“That’s the problem, you know. You’re spending your nights gallivanting around, doing God knows what with God knows who. You wouldn’t be like this if you had a real job with real responsibilities.”
I’m too tired to argue with him. “I know, Dad.” I trudge toward the stairs and make my way to my apartment. I’d give my left nut for my own entrance instead of having to go through the living room.
I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed, forgoing the effort of removing my clothes. Matthias’s sweats are so soft and comfortable. As a bonus, they smell like his laundry detergent. Both are strong arguments for why I’m never taking them off. I lie on top of the comforter and pull the fleece blanket from the foot over my body.
With no time pressure to get to the study group, I wishI’d stayed at Matthias’s. Maybe he would’ve made me hot chocolate and let me nap on his couch. Ideally, with him there. I bet he’d make a great big spoon.
I settle for the next best thing, falling asleep imagining his arms wrapped around me.
Chapter Eight
FRANK
This is a mistake.A big one. I’ve made far too many mistakes to have a ranking list, but if I did, this would be near the top.
I seized up when Matthias invited me over. Who does that? Invite someone they barely know over. Not once, but as a daily thing. It’s weird. Not a single one of my friends would offer something like that. Case in point: none of them have. A fact I remind myself of as I pull up in front of Matthias’s house for the second time today. I came late this morning. Or rather, I came on time instead of early. It meant that I missed my morning coffee handoff with Matthias. I texted Sam to make sure it was okay to change my hours. I didn’t mention that it was to avoid seeing Matthias. After Friday night, I wasn’t sure what to say.
I’m still not, but I guess I better come up with something quickly. Matthias texted me while I was in class to make sure I was still coming over, emphasizing that it wasn’t an inconvenience.
Is this better than the diner? It’s more comfortable and doesn’t require me to pay for food and coffee. On the other hand, I have to watch Matthias walk around his house looking like a tasty snack with no option to sample.
I’m not exactly swimming in choices, so I ring the bell.
It only takes him a moment to answer the door. He’s changed out of his business clothes and into a pair of black joggers and a long-sleeve tee. Somehow, he still looks put together. Like his life is in complete order, even when he’s getting ready for bed. I’d kill to feel like that for even one minute.
“I’m glad you made it.”
“Yeah, sorry it’s so late.” It’s nearly nine. It strikes me that I have no idea when he goes to bed. He gets up early, meeting me at six-thirty most days, fully dressed and ready to walk into a business meeting.
“It’s no problem. Come on in.” It’s weird entering through the front door. The one time I came this way was when I left on Saturday morning, and I didn’t bother to look around. It would’ve gotten in the way of sprinting to my car. There’s a fucking chandelier in the entryway.
A chandelier. Like this is a castle or something.
