Page 63 of Roleplay at Randy's
I stare down at my lap and squeeze a hand over my nape. “I didn’t mean to. I just …”
Miya pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a sigh, but at least the anger has simmered. “You’ve been like this since you were a kid. If any of your friends took an interest in me, you flipped your lid and threw a tantrum.”
I shoot her a glare. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.”
She quirks a brow. “Oh really? Sure looked like one. You made your boyfriendcry, Elias. Because you were freaking jealous. Argue all you want, but what it boils down to is that you don’t know how to share.”
Boyfriend. Share.
I want Matty to know that I can give him everything he needs, but that isn’t true is it?
“Ei. You can’t be everything to him. Just like Cal needs his therapists, and soon his teachers when he starts kindergarten. You throw yourself, mind, body, and soul into your relationships, but you have to realize that you can’t exist in a bubble. I like your boyfriend, Ei. He sure as hell likes you. Do you want to know what we were talking about? Before you blew your lid?”
No. Yes. I huff and cross my arms, but all of my frustration at the situation has evaporated. Now, I’m only irritated with myself.
Her gaze softens, and she reaches over to ruffle my hair. “You, doofus. About how amazing you’ve been at taking careof Cal. About how sweet you are for taking care of Matty. He couldn’t stop gushing about you.”
The look on her face grows serious, and the rock in my gut sinks lower. “You hurt him. Getting mad at him for signing? This isn’t something he does for fun, Ei, it’s a part of who he is. You made him feel bad for that.”
Which is the last thing I ever want to do.
Have I really always had a jealous streak?
I was jealous of Miya for having a connection to Matty I didn’t realize I wanted. Jealous of both of them for excelling in something I failed miserably at.
“I’m the worst,” I mumble, dragging a hand down my face.
She takes a sip of her coffee and inclines her head to the door. “Go make up with him. Kiss his pretty little brains out.”
Not so sure how much kissing there’s going to be with Matty rightfully mad at me, but I at the very least owe him an apology. And an explanation for my shitty behavior.
With Miya turning her focus to Cal, I slip out of the booth and push the glass doors open into the biting Boston October air. I don’t have to go far, spotting a huddled up Matty crouched at the edge of the building.
His arms are hugging his knees to his chest with his face pressed into them. I can’t tell if he’s still crying, but the fact that it’s my fault he spilled any tears at all hits deep in my chest.
Not wanting to startle him, I stop a foot away and sit down on my knees. His posture shifts, and though he doesn’t speak or lift his head, he holds out a hand that I instantly latch onto. He squeezes my fingers, and I slowly inch closer until I can hold our joined hands in my lap.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, stroking my thumb along the back of his hand.
The space between us is quiet, the moment dragging onand only rippled by sniffles Matty tries to stifle with his other hand. When he lifts his head, a raw pink rims his eyes, and I tighten my hold on his fingers.
“You’re so special, Matty,” I say when his gaze is steady on me. “I am in awe of you every single day. Your dancing. Your signing. The way you are with Cal. I look at you and can’t fucking believe I get to be in your orbit.”
He sits up, eyes trained on me as he chews on his bottom lip.
“You make me nervous,” I push on, swallowing the dry lump in my throat. “You make me want things I’ve never wanted—or haven’t wanted in years. Falling in love with you would be effortless. That scares me a little.”
“It scares me, too,” he says in a wobbly, shattered voice. “How is it possible to want someone so much yet be so terrified of having them?”
I chuckle softly and pull his fingers to my lips. “I wish I knew.”
Slowly, Matty’s expression starts to open. His breathing evens out, the little tremors rolling through him vanish, and a palpable tiredness comes over him. I adjust to sit down properly and unfurl our fingers to wrap my arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate to fold into me, head nestled into the crook of my arm, pressed tightly to my side.
A sigh leaves his lips, and he reaches for my other hand, threading our fingers together. A soft affection rolls through me, and I rest my cheek on the top of his head.
We simply exist in this moment together, holding and breathing each other in, but there’s too many things I want to say. Too much I need to get off my chest. Reassurances I need to make.
“Matty.” His hair tickles my mouth. “Can you hear me?”
