I really hate how many times he’s been right tonight.
“Just promise me you’ll seriously consider it,” he says, stepping closer. He reaches out and rests his hand on my arm, and there’s something soothing about his touch.
“I’ll consider it,” I concede.
His lips tug into a gentle smile, which seems weird as hell given what we’ve been talking about.
“Can you imagine if Brad and Luke knew we were talking about you fucking me?” I joke.
We both chuckle, then just as quickly, fall silent as the weight of reality hits us once again.
I shake my head. “Okay, now let me head out.”
“You can hang in here while Brad and Luke are going at it,” he offers.
“Nah. I was gonna head to the common area and think this over. Obviously, you’ve given me even more to think about.”
“Fair enough.”
He pulls his hand away from my arm, and I immediately feel the absence of his comforting touch. “I’ll…text you or see you…or…”
“I get it.”
I grab my bag and head down to the common area. A few guys are watching a movie, so I just relax in a booth near the window, gazing out over the campus. The guys on the sofa in front of the TV are laughing and goofing off, and it reminds me of when Nick and I were kids and we’d stay up watching scary movies. Sometimes it feels like any damn thing can remind me of him.
Which of course takes me back to that day when we first realized he wasn’t home.
My unanswered texts that quickly stacked up in my phone.
The panic.
The fear that only grew worse over the next few days.
What happened to you that night, Nick?
Tears rush to my eyes because as much as I want to know, whatever happened can never give us back what was stolen from us.
All this time.
I bat at my eyes. What a wild emotional roller coaster tonight has been. Yet unlike the past few nights, there’s a calm within me. I don’t feel as anxious as I did earlier in the week, or even tonight. Matteo can’t know what he did for me, not just by making that offer, but by making me feel less alone.
“I’ll protect you. Your privacy. Your body.”
I’ve only known him for a short span of time, but I don’t doubt any of it.
My phone buzzes, and I rush to check it.
Preston: Sorry, man.
I expect frustration or anger, like the past few times he’s told me no, but this time, there’s relief. Because now I know what I must do.
But can I really ask this of Matteo?
8
MATTEO
It’s Friday.
