Matt nods slowly, all understanding. With the amount of patience and support he has shown me while I go through this, frankly, completely lunatic journey, he should be eligible for sainthood.
That reminds me. “Can you get Nick to give you his family’s information so we can talk to them?” I ask, hesitant. Sure, Oliver, ask him to name you in his will while you’re at it.
“He would if it wasn't illegal.” He looks genuinely apologetic.
“Alright, maybe we can just talk to Gina in 7D. She could have heard something. Anything that’d prove I’m not fucking losing my mind at thirty,” I say, a little frustrated.
Matt closes his eyes for a millisecond and breathes out loud.
“I know I’m not making sense...” Boy, do I know!
“No, let’s do it,” he interrupts, determined.
“Perfect,” I sigh with relief. As long as Matt buys it, I can keep telling myself I’m not a few marbles short.
He focuses on the road for a while, and I take the time to shamelessly ogle at his biceps and forearms. Who knew forearms could be that attractive? I follow the corded muscles up to the sleeves of his blue T-shirt, where they hide under the fabric.
Matt clears his throat, the noise slicing through the silence in the car. “So, what’s Nadia up to in the next episode?” His voice is rough.
That doesn’t distract me from his words, though. “You watch the show?” I ask, excited.
“I watched an episode last night.”
I look at him expectantly, waiting for his reaction. I don’t even know why. He's the opposite of the show’s target audience.
Probably sensing my desperation for approval, he continues, “It was funny. A little cliche. A lot exaggerated. But weirdly a fun watch.”
“That's exactly what we’re going for,” I admit, satisfied by his response. I lean my head against the seat.
“And Ineedto know what happens next,” he adds.
I laugh and tell him about the upcoming episode and the dialogue I got in on the script. He boosts my ego by laughing and nodding at all the right places. We talk about my work the rest of the way.
After parking in the apartment garage, we stand behind the truck and look at the tree again.
“We may have gone overboard,” I comment.
I look at him. Then I look at the tree.
“Alright, let's take it up.” Matt claps his hands like a drill sergeant.
He unfurls the rope and slowly pulls the tree back. He guides me to hold it from the neatly wrapped side. I brace myself for the heavyweight that will probably crush me, internally berating myself for not going to the gym often …or like ever.
But when I finally hold it, it's pretty light. Then I look at Matt's biceps bulging against his T-shirt as he starts walking back towards the stairs. The man is holding the entire, truck-sized Christmas tree by himself. My breath picks up forcompletely different reasons than I was prepared for.
Matt holds the door open with his legs and starts walking backwards towards the stairs. “Maybe I should walk backwards because you know…” I’m not carrying a fucking twelve-foot Christmas tree?
“No, I got it,” he says, no strain in his voice. We start climbing up.
On the first landing, he guides me slowly to make sure I'm not crushed between the wall and the tree. “Stay,” he says, moving around. “Now, turn.”
My body rushes to follow his instructions.
“Slow… That’s right.” His voice is throaty, probably because he’s holding the weight of an entire tree. My body doesn’t get the memo though. I feel all the blood traveling down. This is so not a good time to get an erection. But I apparently like it when he tells me what to do a little too much.
Matt takes the steps efficiently, like he casually climbs up stairs backwards all the time, while I’m huffing and puffing by the time we reach the third floor. I'm not even holding any weight. This is just me after climbing three flights of stairs.
We continue up, but our pace slows, clearly so I don’t keel over. By the time we reach his door, I’m ready to throw the tree on the floor, Christmas be damned. Feeling like an absolute Grinch, probably looking like one too, I let go as soon as the door opens. Matt drags the tree inside easily without acknowledging my lack of stamina.
