"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let her answer. She's a little..." I frowned. Edgy? Abrasive?
"She's fine," Matt said. His tone was cool. "I was simply done talking."
"Oh. So is that your thing? You hang up whenever you feel 'done talking'?"
"Sure, why not." He gave an exaggerated sigh, like it was killing him to be on the phone with me.
"And hey, are you only in a good mood after you jerk off? Because it's starting to feel that way."
I heard Matt's hesitant, breathy laugh.
"You're funny, little bird."
"I don't feel very funny right now."
"God, you're too cute."
"What!" I spluttered. "Stop being crazy. I'm... I'm trying to—"
"Trying to figure out our situation? Give up. I don't think there are any rules for this kind of thing, or any helpful guidelines. Anyway, it doesn't matter."
There was a long pause. I held my breath. Doesn't matter? Somehow, this thing with Matt—"our situation"—did matter to me. I liked it. I wanted it. It made me feel a little out of control, but I liked that too.
"Doesn't matter," he repeated quietly. He cleared his throat. "So. Who's the new guy?"
"Huh? New guy?"
"Yeah, your sister said there was a new guy. Hannah's new guy."
"Uh... she did? I didn't hear that."
"Yeah. Well, no. She asked me if I was your new guy, which I'm obviously not, and which... obviously implies there is some... new guy." Matt couldn't keep the feeling from his voice, and the feeling wasn't curiosity. It was simmering rage.
Realization hit me like a sack of cement.
Matt thought I'd gleefully helped him come and enjoyed our intimate chat on the phone, all the while cruising into my next relationship.
"Matt!" I snapped.
"What," he snapped back.
"I would never have done those things with you if I had a new guy, god! Could you for one minute think better of me? I mean first the picture thing, now this. I get that you don't know me, but seriously, you're projecting your assholery onto me. I'm not some backhanded psycho chick looking for a good time on the phone because I don't have the guts to cheat for real on my nonexistent new guy, trust me."
I was gripping Ten Thousand Nights so hard my nails dug into the cover. Okay, so I kind of lost it right there. But he deserved it.
I listened to the silence. I checked my phone to make sure Matt wasn't "simply done talking." He was still on the line.
"Hello? Matt?"
He began to chuckle, the wry sound fanning my anger.
"Assholery?" he murmured.
"Yeah, well. Ugh. You know what I mean." I loosened my hold on the paperback. "And by the way, I know you plagiarized M. Pierce last night. Nice try."
Matt was quiet again.
"Hey... I'm kidding. I mean, you did quote from Ten Thousand Nights. But it was awesome. Pierce is seriously one of my favorite authors."
"Oh? I've only read that one book. Not sure why I bothered. It got a lot of publicity; I thought it would be better. I guess the line stuck with me. Personally I think the author is a bit of a windbag. What are you wearing?"
Matt's sudden transition from bored dismissal to my attire left me speechless.
"Clothes," he offered. "You have them on. I want to know what they look like."
"I'm outside," I said sheepishly, "sitting on the edge of the U-Haul."
"I don't care. I'm not angling for phone sex, though I wouldn't mind it. It's unusually easy to come with you, Hannah. Unusually satisfying, too."
I sighed and tilted my head against the cool metal interior of the trailer.
"Soon I'll be home. I'll have my own room, a door I can lock."
"I can't think about that now," Matt said. "Don't make plans. I'm not real."
"What?"
"You don't know me. I'm scared to have you close. Tell me what you're wearing."
"A... a little black dress with an empire waist. Black strapless bra, black thong."
"Another thong. Did you wear that for me? Did you know we'd talk?"