“What’s wrong, Luce?”
Matty is wearing a completely bewildered expression, as if he doesn’t have the first clue what’s going on. As if he and his little team didn’t completely research every facet of my life. I was just another challenge for them to conquer.
“How’d you get picked?” I ask. “Draw the short straw? Was it hard to abstain from fucking a different girl every night, or did you do that anyway while lying through your teeth about being only turned on by me?”
God, all the lines, all the things I fell for. I couldn’t be more humiliated if I had to walk through campus nude. That eight minutes of silence I experienced my freshman year? Even that didn’t make me feel as low and dirty and awful as I do now.
“What are you talking about?” he barks out and then, as if realizing he’s supposed to be nice to me, he gives me a strained smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m working blind right now. I know you’re angry, but I don’t know why. Is it about the Ace thing? Because you seemed to be okay with it.”
“Seemed to be?” I say. To my disgust, my words come out shrill and quavery. “Before today I didn’t know how long you’ve been plotting this out. How you and whoever went around and compiled a more thorough background check than the FBI. When did you figure out that Ace and I were friends? Was it that first night you came to the Brew House? Was it before then? After? When?” I’m screaming at the end. Literally screaming. I stand up and start dressing. It doesn’t matter what he answers. I’m not going to believe him.
I can’t believe I slept with him. I can’t believe I let down all my defenses. I can’t believe I didn’t listen to myself. I knew he was a risk. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.
But I let him talk me into bed. Hell, I jumped into bed with him. I told him it was for one night and then went back for seconds and thirds. We’ve been carrying on this charade for nearly three weeks! He was so damn clever.
“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about!” Matty yells back. “If you’d tell me, I’d give you an explanation. Hell, I’d apologize, but I don’t know what the fuck is going on!” His hand goes to the back of his neck. A classic Matty sign of frustration.
I struggle into my T-shirt and then stomp over to my backpack and pull out the folder. I thrust it into his hands.
“This. This is what I’m talking about. You knew my class schedule, where I worked. That I was in mock trial. You even have a list of my fucks! I’m surprised you don’t have my goddamned medical records in there. Or did you know all along I was diabetic and were planning on using that against me, too?”
Matty’s face pales. He flips open the folder that is empty except for the note stuck to the back flap. He reaches in and crumples it up. Then the whole manila folder folds in on itself as he fists his hand. “Goddammit, no. I didn’t use any of this shit. I didn’t even know you and Ace—” He breaks off. “Fuck, I hate saying your names together in one sentence. I’m so fucking lost on you that I get irrationally jealous when your names are linked together because you don’t belong to Ace. You belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you!” I jab him in the chest.
That was a mistake. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms, banding his muscle, bones and tissue around me like strong rope. I struggle, but he doesn’t release me. We look ridiculous. Like some black-and-white silent film villain and weak maiden.
“When did you know?” I choke on the words. “When did you know? Did you intentionally seek me out? Did you sleep with me to persuade me to talk to Ace? Did you?” I pound my fists on his chest, and he stands there and takes it. I pound and pound and pound and scream and cry until I’m too exhausted to say or do anything else but collapse in his arms.
He picks me up and carries me to his chair by the window.
“I didn’t know,” he says in a strained voice. His arms are loose around me, but he’s tense everywhere else. Ready, I suppose, to capture me if I try to flee again. Right now I’m drained. “I didn’t know until a day or two before you came to stay at Ace’s place.”
“Before we had sex,” I mumble into his chest. When I gain my second wind, I’m going to get up and leave.
“Yeah, before we had sex.”
“So you used me,” I say dully.
“No, goddammit. No. I fucking…no.”
“What were you going to say?” I feel like I’ve heard everything at this point and believe nothing. Nothing that I don’t see with my own eyes, at least.
He’s quiet for a long time. His chest rises and falls as he takes these giant gulps of breath, as if he’s preparing for something big. He better tell me the truth. I hope that’s what he’s gathering his courage to do.