"But life would be hell if it went on forever."
"Or heaven," he murmured.
I traced my fingers down Matt's side. I could feel a few ribs. God, he was all muscle and taut skin. I'd watched him pick at his lunch earlier while leering at me like I was the most appetizing thing at the table.
I wanted to feed him. I wanted to comfort and take care of him.
And I never wanted to let him go, which would be unavoidable tonight. He probably had work tomorrow and I absolutely had to start pulling my weight at home—unpacking, making a more serious effort to help with mom's work, and brushing up my resume for Pamela Wing. Which reminded me.
"Matt, do you know the fax number at Pamela Wing's office?"
"Actually, I do," he said. "I'll give it to you before I go."
Before I go. My chest tightened.
I heard a distant pop.
"The fireworks are starting," I said. Thank god. I couldn't lie there thinking about Matt driving off tonight. "We better get up on the deck."
"Yeah." He sounded as subdued as I felt.
It was a hot night, but mom lit a fire in the chiminea and we all sat on the deck watching three distant displays. Matt shoved his chair laughably close to mine and still looked unhappy about the arrangement. I think he would have preferred me on his lap.
He checked his phone neurotically. I had to nudge him a few times to show him the prettiest fireworks, the ones that fell like gold dust and lingered in the sky.
When the last finale went off, Matt helped put away the folding chairs and clear the citronella candles. Daisy whined and followed him. I wanted to whine and follow him, too.
He shook hands with dad. He hugged mom. Jay and Chrissy were already downstairs on the PS3, where they'd be until two in the morning.
I trailed Matt to his car.
I could get in and go home with him. Would he want that? Tonight had been magical for me, but maybe Matt was putting on a show. Maybe he couldn't wait to be alone. He was a puzzle, and the more I opened up to him, the more closed he seemed to me.
"I know I can't steal you away tonight," he said. "Would you come?"
"In a heartbeat, Matt. But—"
"I know. Life."
"Yeah." I held his hips. "Tomorrow's Friday though."
"Can I see you?"
"Of course! There's no one I'd rather see, and it's not like I have any other friends."
"What about the high school friend?"
"Evan?" I laughed. "Doesn't count. He's trying to get in my pants."
For a moment, Matt looked frankly homicidal. I swallowed and tried to hug him. His body was unyielding.
"Hey, hey," I said. "You're my only friend here. You're my only lover."
Lover. Fuck, that word sounded strange. What were Matt and I, anyway? Were we dating, or just fuck buddies?
"Lover," Matt murmured. He must have been pondering similar questions.
He hugged me at last and kissed me, telling me with his body that he didn't want to say goodbye. He deepened the kiss. He moaned softly into my mouth and began to pull my body against his. God, he wanted me again. And I wanted him again. I wanted him until we were both too exhausted to move.
I hooked a leg around him and squeezed his ass.
He tugged at my earlobe.
"If you get me hard," he growled, "you have to deal with it."
"Yes sir." I began to tug on his shorts.
We laughed and broke away from one another.
"Tomorrow," he said. He texted me Pamela Wing's fax number as we stood together by his car, and then he got in and drove away slower than I thought he was capable of driving. I watched his tail lights disappear around the corner.
I was starting to understand his aversion to goodbyes.
I revised my resume and faxed it to Pamela Wing's office that night, along with a cover letter reintroducing myself, apologizing for my ill-prepared state at our first meeting, and expressing my enthusiasm about working under her.
Writing the letter and retooling my resume took my mind off Matt for an hour. As soon as the fax machine spit out the pages, I felt his absence. It expanded inside my chest until it hurt. Why was this happening?