“Why stop there?” I say sarcastically. “How about I brand him? Put my initials on his ass.”
“No,” Sutton disagrees. “If you’re going to brand him, it’s got to be a place where everyone can see it. Like his wrist. Maybe his knuckles.”
“Are you serious?”
“A little bit.” She spreads her index and thumb in a mock measurement of sorts.
“See, that’s why I’m worried. He’s gone a lot, and when he’s around and I’m busy, he’s going to get bored and wander away.” But when I hear myself criticize Matty, I know immediately it’s unfair. He told me himself that he hadn’t wanted a repeat of his failed freshman romance. I shouldn’t insult him by doubting him when he’s given me no cause for concern.
“He’s not your mom,” Sutton chides me gently.
“You mean I’m not my mom.” I’d hope not. I’ve spent my whole life trying to not be her.
“No. I meant what I said. You’re afraid every hot, attractive guy is your mom, who will end up dumping you and leaving you with your pants around your ankles and a little girl to raise.”
I really have to stop talking to Sutton so much about my past.
“I…” I don’t know what to say, but I don’t have to because Sutton isn’t finished.
“You aren’t your mom. You never were. You’re just not made up that way. What you fear is falling for someone like your mom—flighty, irresponsible. So you date people who you perceive are just like you. If you were afraid of being your mom, you’d stay away from people who feel like mirrors.”
I tug my zipper down to let some cold air into my suddenly too-warm coat, but I don’t dismiss Sutton’s theory out of hand. I’ve always chosen guys who were careful and cautious. Low angst sort of males. Ones who I figured were too dull or lazy to get tired of me and move on when, in fact, the relationships never got off the ground because of the overwhelming dullness of them.
Not one had been flighty or silly. Matt’s not either, but he’s bold and that’s shocking to my careful, plodding existence. Slowly, I start to put words to my jumbled thoughts. “Assume everything you say is true—”
“It is. Always. Forever,” she says smugly.
I ignore her. “Assume what you say is true. That still means Matt and I are opposites, and while the saying is that opposites attract, what happens after they’ve collided?” I slap my hands together. “My parents were opposites. My dad’s a hard worker, my mom is flighty. They don’t have anything in common, and it led to a lot of heartbreak for them.” For me, too, for that matter. “It’s hard for me to envision two people who are opposites sticking together.”
Sutton chews on that for a moment. “I don’t see you and Matt as opposites. You’re more alike than you think. You both love being part of a team. You both want to excel at what you do. Really the only difference is that you tend to take a more cautious approach to things, and Matt seems to be a feet-first kind of guy.”
“Isn’t that a really big difference, though?” Isn’t it? Or am I making a bunch of mountains where there doesn’t even need to be a hill?
“Only if you want it to be.”
* * *
Matty
“Eat shit, asshole.” My thumb presses the controller to the right while I trigger the kick mechanism.
“Too late, dickweed. I’ve got this.” And fuck if Hammer doesn’t block my shot.
“Fuck.” I toss the controller down. I can’t concentrate for shit tonight.
“Are you thinking about that chick?” Hammer guesses immediately that I’m preoccupied with Luce but can’t believe it. He asks in astonishment, “How can you miss her? Didn’t you spend all night hauling her ashes?”
“Hauling her ashes?” I shake my head. Hammer’s getting stranger and stranger.
“No bueno?” He pulls out his phone.
I shake my head. “It sounds like she’s dirty inside.”
“Hmm. I don’t want that.”
“Why are you even asking? Aren’t fuck, sex, laid, and tapping it good enough?”
“I’m writing my next article about obscure sexual euphemisms.” He makes a few notes in his phone.
“How the hell did you decide to write that?”
He grins. “Apparently the magazine gets a lot of searches for that topic, so we’re beefing up our search engine optimization by writing on topics people are interested in. What do you think of doodling the alphabet?”
“Only if it’s oral, but are you really doodling? I mean, if you’re doing it right, you should be applying some serious pressure down there.”
“Fuck, man, since when are you requiring dirty sex terms to be so damn precise?” He presses the delete key on his phone a little harder than necessary.
“I don’t know.” I reach for my beer. This conversation requires me to be a lot drunker than I am. “You asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you.”
“Yeah. Yeah. How about sheathing the sword?”
“Doesn’t sound very obscure. That’s been around since the Middle Ages.” I drink half the bottle. If I get drunk enough, I can drown out Hammer and forget Lucy. Actually no, if I get too drunk, I’ll probably end up outside Lucy’s apartment.
I did agree to only one night.