I can feel heat radiating from Mats’s body even though we’re at least six inches apart. His shoulders look even bigger close up. And there’s a familiar whiff of his spicy floral cologne. Suddenly, I’m getting the total Roy Matsumoto experience, and it’s a bit dizzying. How could Lana Hillier just walk away from all this? And while the guy was rescuing a fucking kitten! Most women would whip off their panties for a good deed like that.
Oh, fuck, what did he ask me before I fell into a hormonal daze? Right, team gossip. I got to know you, and… you weren’t horrible, so I started to feel guilty gossiping about you.
He doesn’t reply, so I keep going. I assume that you never talk about me.
Well, not to the whole team. So, he might talk to his good friends. Was he complaining about what a bitch I’ve been? I deserve that, but it makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m actually a nice person.
Tonight feels like a sleepover, I say. I’ve always liked talking in the dark. My favourite thing on road trips was when a bunch of us were in a hotel room together.
Better than the games?
Yeah, you’re right. Games are the best. I turn onto my side to face Mats. He’s lying on his back with his eyes closed.
Why is it so easy to talk to you? I can’t believe that someone I would have sworn I disliked an hour ago now feels so close, both physically and mentally.
He doesn’t answer right away, but for once, I wait.
I think it’s because we’ve been getting to know each other all this time. And tonight, we dropped the last barrier.
I’m about to reply when he continues, Also, because both of us don’t really like conflict. We’d rather things go smoothly.
He makes total sense. Also, I’m flattered that Mats has an opinion on what I’m like. All this time, I assumed he was only tolerating me. Fuck, you’re smart.
Or a lucky guesser. Mats turns his face towards mine and, for one thrilling moment, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. Good night, Cleo.
While I could probably keep talking all night, Mats closes his eyes and seems to fall asleep almost immediately.
I lie on my back too and stare up at the patterned canopy. As I slowly drift off to sleep, I feel oddly content.
12
THE MORNING AFTER
MATS
MY ALARM GOES OFF AT 6:30. THERE’S A MOMENT OF DISORIENTATION WHEN I HAVE NO IDEA where I am. Why is there brocade on the ceiling? And why is there a woman in bed with me?
Kill your fucking alarm, Becks, she mutters. Oh, right, it’s Cleo, and she’s still asleep. I silence the alarm and slip out of bed.
I look back at her. She’s sleeping with one arm over her face and the covers partially kicked off. I can see the swell of her full breasts through the flimsy T-shirt and the creamy skin of her bare hip and muscular thigh. Seeing her this way feels like a very intimate sight, and not one that I’m entitled to.
I quickly pull on my pants. All Cleo needs is to wake up and find me leering at her with a massive hard-on. I grab the rest of my clothes and head to the bathroom.
I hop into the shower. While it would be easy to rub one out now, I resist. Not only do I suspect that Geraldine has X-ray vision, I’m also worried about setting off an incident that would set back Monarch fundraising for years: Old mansion must have septic system flushed after hockey player clogs pipes with excessive amounts of semen. Better to not risk it; I’ll let the cool water do the job of easing my erection.
Once I’m fully scrubbed and rinsed, I towel off and get dressed. I hate being cliché, and what could be more predictable than being attracted to Cleo after we had to spend a night in the same bed? But when I walked back into the bedroom and saw her with her pretty hair down and wearing the world’s tightest T-shirt… well, I had an immediate physical reaction.
I comb out my hair and rub a hand over my chin. I need to shave, but Geraldine hasn’t supplied razors. I gaze unseeingly into the mirror.
Normally, Cleo’s clothing hides her body, rather than showing off her curves and muscles. Either she’s indifferent to fashion or prefers to deflect male attention. Based on all her bad date stories, maybe it’s a shield.
At our first dinner, I was shocked when Cleo listed all the jerks she had dated. Of course, my initial reaction was that she deserved better, not that it had to be me. But, over time, I’ve been seduced by her transparency. Cleo wears her emotions on the surface. She reminds me of a Ragdoll cat; so trusting that you can’t let them wander outside because they have no natural defence mechanisms.
And now, is there something happening between us? Fuck, I can’t even tell.
I tap on the bedroom door, and when Cleo answers, I call through the door that I’m going to clean off the car and see if the roads are clear yet.
After a normal, but greasy, meal of bacon and eggs, we make it to school on time and with a minimum of conversation. Apparently, Cleo is not a morning person, but that’s fine with me. I’m already confused enough. Just yesterday, I told Sinc I wasn’t interested in dating anyone. One night in bed with Cleo can’t change all that, can it?
