Reluctantly, I pull my gaze away.He stands and offers his hand.This time, as I take it and rise, the contact feels less electric.More solid.
Comfortable.
We walk back to his car in silence, leaving the empty burger boxes in a nearby bin.
The drive back to the Edgewater feels shorter.Unlike before, this silence is a different kind of tension.The subtle strains of piano jazz fill the space, and I find myself stealing glances at Matthew’s profile: the lean line of his cheekbone, the curve of his lips illuminated by the passing streetlights.
He pulls up beside my car, shifting into park but keeping the engine running.He exits, and my heart hammers against my ribs as I watch him walk around the hood to open my door.He helps me out of the low seat, the warmth of his touch lingering even after I let go.I grab my purse but leave the blue folder lying on the seat.
We stand between our cars.The space feels tight.His eyes search mine in the dim light, and I feel that magnetic pull again, stronger this time.
Neither of us speaks.
Neither of us moves.
“Remarkable,” I say, meaning the word with my whole heart.
“Statehouse or Sal’s food truck?”he asks, a mischievous smile playing across his lips.
“The company,” I clarify, biting my lower lip.
“The remarkable people.”His smile widens.
“Person,” I correct him, throwing caution to the wind.“One remarkable person in particular.”
“Oh, just one person…” Matthew repeats in a low rumble.
He erases the remaining distance.His gaze drops to my lips, his chest rising and falling.Air leaves my lungs as his face inches closer, a muscle twitching in his jaw.My eyelids flutter shut and I tilt my head back, leaning in to meet him.
He releases a harsh breath and presses his forehead to mine, framing my face with his palms.“I-I know, you told me to stop,” he rasps, struggling.“I didn’t forget.”
My eyes fly open.Disappointment, cold as ice, floods my veins, dousing the fire he ignited only seconds ago.“Matt…”
He caresses my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, stealing my clarity.“Amy, tonight has been… perfectly simple.”He presses the softest kiss to my forehead before stepping back.
I shake off the daze enough to shrug off his blazer before I forget I’m wearing it.He steps forward, helping me ease it off, his hands brushing against my arms.His touch lingers a fraction of a second too long.
He folds it neatly over his arm, his gaze fixed on me, making it hard to breathe.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my gratitude encompassing the blazer, the burgers, this entire unexpected evening.Fumbling, I fish my keys out of my purse.I unlock the door and slide quickly into the driver’s seat, needing the physical barrier between us.
“Good night.”I push the word past the tightness in my throat, risking one last look at him.
“Please drive safely,” he whispers, his expression gentle, almost wistful.He shuts my door, sealing me in the sudden quiet.
My car feels too small, too confining, after leaving Matthew standing there.The drive home is a blur of adrenaline and whiplash.One minute, my heart hammers against my ribs, replaying his face inches from mine.The next, frustration boils under my skin.His strained voice echoes in my mind, reminding me I told him to stop.
But not tonight!
Not then!
The radio is just noise now, grating against my frayed nerves.I grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, taking the turns too fast.All I can think about is the madness.
The intense connection.
The almost-kiss.
The gentle rejection.
