Elsie knew Steph through one of those arbitrary connections that made you realize exactly how small the world was, and when she and her husband moved to Boston last year, she folded into our circle. Her personality was shiny, animated, and over the top, and I knew she was just waiting to star in her own reality series.
The second Matthew’s hand curled around my waist, I spotted Steph and Amanda gaping at us from the opposite side of the restaurant. They excused themselves from their conversations, elbowing through the crowd.
“We were just wondering where you were, and now you’re here! And looking freakin’ sexypants as usual!” Amanda’s chestnut hair fell in glossy waves over her shoulders as she motioned at my dress, then turned to Matthew. “Well hello there.”
I gestured between him and my friends. “Matthew Walsh, these are my friends—”
“From your freshman dorm at Williams,” he added. He’d pumped me for information about Steph and Amanda on the way back from the button mill but his sketches caught my attention, and I didn’t notice how much I shared while envisioning my school. “And The Dungeon?”
“That’s right,” I said. Steph and Amanda exchanged loaded glances and didn’t bother containing their amusement. “My friends, Amanda Rier, Steph Grasiani.”
His eyes twinkled as he pulled me closer, his palm spreading across my hip and his fingers an inch away from starting something naughty. It was still surprising to feel those butterflies beating against my chest. It was even more surprising to discover I liked the butterflies.
I didn’t want a relationship, I didn’t have time for a relationship, but the fact we were here together, his fingers tapping out a beat on my hipbone while he met my friends, only established that my head and my ladybits needed to calibrate their decision-making.
My friends kept glancing at me while Matthew asked about Amanda’s work as a financial consultant, and Steph discovered he managed the remodel—he called it a rehab and restore—two houses down from hers.
When another guest caught Steph and Amanda’s attention for a moment, Matthew turned his head and brushed his lips over my ear. “How about that drink, sweetness? The usual?” I nodded, refusing to acknowledge the layers of meaning in his question even when I felt him staring, waiting for a reaction. Finally, he pivoted toward Steph and Amanda. “Ladies, can I get you anything from the bar?”
“Pregnant,” Amanda said, pointing to her small belly.
“Breastfeeding.” Steph pointed to her chest.
“Uh, all right then,” Matthew murmured. “Congratulations.”
I watched as he moved through the restaurant before turning to face Steph and Amanda. I forgot all about texting them with a heads-up around the time my leg went over Matthew’s shoulder, and I was bracing for their barrage of questions.
“You have sex hair,” Steph announced.
“You totally have sex hair,” Amanda said.
“I do not have sex hair,” I said, but still ran a hand through my flat-ironed-straight strands.
“Where did you get that chunk of man candy?” Amanda asked. “And why the hell didn’t I get a memo about this? This is the kind of shit I’m going to miss out on in DC. You’re going to get freaking engaged and I won’t even know until I get the freaking Save the Date.”
I plucked Steph’s sparkling water from her hand and sipped, inwardly snorting at the idea. Not a month went by without a bridal or baby shower in our extended circles, and though I was happy to be finished with wedding season for a while, it was a matter of time until the pastel cardstock started rolling in again. Everyone was moving into quiet, wooded communities, shuttling between holidays with the in-laws instead of our Friendsgivings inevitably composed of eight different types of pie, three potato variations, vegan green bean casserole, and a partially burnt, partially rare turkey.
I was going to miss those pies. There was nothing better than cold pie for breakfast. Apple, pumpkin, blueberry, coconut cream. Why bother with bagels when you could have pie?
“I don’t care where she found him, I just want to know what’s under the hood and whether he knows how to use it,” Steph said.
“Oh, he knows how to use it,” Amanda purred. She wrapped her arm around Steph’s shoulders and they murmured in lusty agreement. “I bet he can use it. All. Night. Long.” She frowned at Steph. “Did I just say that out loud?”
I studied Matthew leaning against the bar, chatting with someone while he waited for our drinks. He glanced in my direction and met my gaze, but he didn’t offer an easy smile. The look he gave me was intense and searing, and it spoke words I was unprepared to hear.
“No but seriously, Lauren, where did that beautiful boy come from?” Steph asked. “We had dinner on Tuesday. Why didn’t you mention him?”
“We’re just having fun,” I said, my eyes still fixed on Matthew. “He helped me find a building for my school. It’s not a big deal.”
As the words left my mouth, I knew they were lies.
“You seem to have this under control,” Amanda said. “Is it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“This is a major shift in strategy,” Steph said. “That chastity belt hasn’t come off in years. You’ve been a season ticket holder to the Waiting Games since…well, I don’t know. Since the summer we moved into The Dungeon, I think.”
“Yeah…” Steph followed my gaze and smirked. “And Man Candy Matt is giving every guy in this place the ‘she’s mine’ stare, he’s eating out of your hand and knows your drink order, and you brought him here to meet us with your sex hair, so I have to assume you either have it all figured out, or he fucked the taskmaster right out of you.”
