I arch an eyebrow. “You want a sleepover, Mr. Wells?”
He blushes, rolling his eyes before looking down and scuffing his feet a little. It’s almost just like a movie. A very PG movie. This is the most flirting I’ve done in five months, and it feels borderline erotic. My voice is all breathy, like a soap opera actress with mile-high hair and bad makeup. Matt looks torn on how to answer, and then I remember the whole no-hugging moratorium because he might actually like me, or something. My eyes sting with tears realizing that I crave his touch. His arms around me, and the sweet smell that comes from between his neck and shoulders.
“Date me,” I blurt out.
Matt’s eyes bulge. “Excuse me?” He chuckles indignantly, shaking his head.
“Date me, Matt. So I can hug you and hold your hand, and … please. Don’t make me beg. That’s hardly chivalrous.” I sniff, but laugh to try to cover it up.
Matt drops his hands and leans back against the pole. “No.”
My stomach sinks so fast, I’m knocked off-balance. “What?”
“Don’t ruin this.” He growls a little. Sticky gravel coursing through the back of his throat.
“Me? You’re the one who won’t hug me anymore because you’re afraid it messes with my virtue, or something.”
“That’s what this is about? You want a hug?”
I hold my arms out, and nearly shout, “Yes! Please! I want a hug. From my best friend.”
“So you don’t want to date me?”
Clenching my fists and dropping them to my sides, I take a deep breath. “Yes I do, Matt. I want to date you. Because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to date anyone who knows less about me than you do. I trust you, and value you and … wait. Why am I pleading here? Why are you saying no?” I take one step back, realizing I inched closer to him during my rant.
“Kennedy,” Matt takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face and back over his head, “you deserve way better than me. Don’t trust me. You’ll just get hurt.” Pushing himself off the post, Matt walks in the direction of his dorm without another word.
Embarrassed and humiliated, I refuse to sink lower by chasing after him. Instead, I turn on my heels, rejected, and shuffle back to my dorm.
Bridgette has returned from her volunteer post, and is wildly shoving things into her duffel bag. Upbeat Christian music praising Jesus and good life and relationships is blaring through tiny speakers on Eden’s desk. She has a hairbrush in her hand and is singing along with the high-pitched songstress on the computer, and matching quite well. As soon as Eden’s eyes land on me, she races to her computer, turning the music off. This gets Bridgette’s attention, whose eyes widen after she assesses me.
“What’s wrong?” Bridgette says, sounding horrified. I must look especially pathetic.
My chin quivers as I plunk into my desk chair. “Matt doesn’t want to date me. He just wants to be my friend, apparently.”
I say it as if I’ve told them everything. As if they know the feelings I have for him. But they don’t. I’ve been so guarded about certain parts of my life, even through trying to be more open. Because of that, there’s going to be a lot of catching up I’m going to have to do with them.
“What?” Eden asks, handing me a tissue before the first tear even fully leaves my eyes. She’s good.
I allow myself to fully sink into girly-mode for this one. It hurts. Dabbing the warm tear from my right eye, I sniff. “I asked him to date me, and he said no. Then he walked away. Like a jerk cowboy riding his jerk horse into the crappy sunset. Is it because I’m the one who asked?” I look to my roommates who are far more knowledgeable about Christian dating than I am.
Eden chuckles, trying to cover it up with a cough. “I don’t think so.”
“Maybe?” Bridgette shrugged. “That doesn’t seem like Matt, though, does it? I don’t really know him. I didn’t know you liked him.”
Eden rolls her eyes. “Come on Bridgette, yes you did. They’re next to each other so much, I bet people who don’t know who either of them are assume they’re together.”
Sitting forward, I crack a smile. “Really? Is it obvious? I didn’t think it would be … we don’t, like, flirt flirt.”
Eden arches an eyebrow. “Yes you do.”
“We do? Well it’s not been any flirting like I’m used to.” My words sink in a bit.
“See? That’s just it. Over here in Christian-landia, we might not be as graphic as some of your high school friends, but we know the art of flirting. And, Matt has been relentless.”
I break into laughter at Eden’s self-deprecating term for where she’s from, and even Bridgette laughs, before adding her own two cents. “Yeah,” she agrees. “The way he always looks at you, I just assumed he’d asked you out and you had turned him down. That’s why I thought you didn’t like him that way.”
“Well now what do I do?” I prop my chin up on my hands, resting my elbows on the desk.