“I’m okay.” My voice comes out weak. Why the fuck am I acting this way?
My heart is still going a mile a minute, but my breath seems to have calmed down. Matt looks down at my trembling hands and rescues the keys I’m holding onto for dear life. I’m sure I have indentations in my hands. Can someone copy a key with hand indentations?
I hear the door unlock. Matt gently places his hand on my back and guides me inside.
Then I’m sitting on the couch. Everything is bright, and the door is safely locked.
Matt sits on the table facing me, close. Too close. All my focus is pulled to the brown eyes in front of me. A stray concern for my flea market table floats somewhere in the back of my head.
“Oliver, talk to me,” Matt says, his voice soothing.
“The guy… big… he was crawling on his hands and legs… glowing eyes… old grump from 8D…” I try, my hands moving frantically.
Matt’s eyes go wide. He grabs my shoulders, his eyes assessing my body. His hands move down my arms.
My heartbeat picks up for another reason. Then it hits me. He thinks I’m injured. Because why else would I be blabbering like an idiot about a giant man with glowing eyes?
I close my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths, focusing on Matt’s hands and the heat they’re generating in their wake. A light caress down my back, gentle combing through my hair. I feel waves of calm descending on me.
I try speaking again. “I’m not hurt.” This time, my voice is not a trembly mess.
Matt rests his hands on my cheeks. He sighs in relief. His breath brushes my face. Those light browns appear lighter somehow, almost golden. He nods. “So, what happened?”
I close my eyes and take another breath, taking my time to arrange my thoughts. No dice. “The old man from 8D was running so fast… on his hands.” I point vaguely in the direction of the staircase. “He was big, his face weird… I couldn’t see properly. He was a few floors down. He was naked.”
What?Now that I think of it, he was completely naked with bulging muscles. Was my brain trying to protect his modesty until now? I focus on Matt’s confused face. Yeah, there was no way I didn’t sound like a lunatic. Still, I know what I saw.
“Maybe he was on something?” he tries, his hands still firmly on my face, like he’s forgotten he placed them there.
That would explain the old guy’s actions, sure. People do whacky shit on drugs.
“But why did he look different?” Even from a distance, it was clear as day. He wasn’t himself.
“Maybe it was the low light of the staircase making everything look spooky?” he suggests. “Anyway, did you have dinner already?” He removes his hands. I almost whimper at the loss of his touch. It was just very… calming.
He moves to sit beside me on the couch.
“I’ll order pizza. Do you like olives?” He’s already scrolling through his phone.
“No, olives taste like rot.” No olive is ever crossing the threshold of my house. Wait, why are we talking about food? THERE’S A GIANT NAKED MAN AT LARGE WITH GOLDEN EYES!
“That’s blasphemy, but I’ll let it slide,” Matt says, generously.
Come to think of it, why is he still here? Why is he ordering food for me? Oh my god! Matt, the sexy firefighter next door and walking wet dream, is leaning back on my couch, ordering me pizza.
GIANT MAN, OLIVER! FOCUS.
“Pizza is on its way,” Matt says, pocketing his phone.
“What about the man, though?” I ask.
“What about him?” he asks back, canting his head.
“We should… we should…” What should we do?
“Let’s eat, and maybe you can rest for the night. We can talk about it tomorrow. It’s clearly upsetting you right now,” he says, sagely.
I find myself nodding along. Maybe some sleep would clear my head enough to form complete sentences, if nothing else. Might come in handy in my career as a fuckingwriter.
