“I’ve noticed,” Matty said around a smirk. “Best believe her brother has, too.”
“Already taken care of.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“She’s only twenty-three,” I told him. “She’s still figuring things out with school, her business, what she wants her life to look like.” I shrugged. “What if she picks a path that doesn’t have room for me in it?”
Matty’s gaze softened. “You think you’d hold her back.”
“Maybe,” I confessed quietly. I rubbed a hand over my face. “Or worse, she’d choose to stay for me and then resent it later. I don’t want to be the guy who holds her back because I got there first.”
Matty was quiet for a long moment, chewing on the last bite of his scone like he was chewing on my admission. Eventually, he nodded.
“It’s okay to be scared of that,” he said. “Means you care about what she wants, not just what you want. But you’re allowed to want things too, Ben. That doesn’t make you an asshole.”
“Damn, you sound like my therapist.”
“Hey,” he countered. “Therapy’s hot.”
I barked a laugh, loud enough for Jo to glance over at our table.
Matty drummed his fingers on the surface. “And since we’re being honest . . .”
I looked up. “Yes?”
“I’ve kind of been messaging one of the people who writes fanfiction about me.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Okay, when I say it out loud, it sounds unhinged.”
“No,” I said slowly. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“He’s actually really cool,” he rushed on. “Funny, smart, lives locally. And things have started to get a little . . . flirty.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
Matty had been private about his love life for as long as I’d known him. It wasn’t a secret that he was interested in both men and women; he was in good company, too. Pink, Roman, and Diaz were also openly queer.
But as far as I knew, he had only ever dated women. Publicly, at least. So, hearing him sayheand, more importantly, hearing the anxiety underlining his confession landed heavier than the words themselves.
“It’s just that the idea of actually going on a date with another guy makes me nervous.” He lowered his voice. “What if I’m . . . bad at it?”
“I get it,” I said carefully. “Flirty texts are one thing. Meeting up in person makes it real.”
He let out a breath that sounded like relief. “Exactly.”
We sat there for a minute, the clatter of the bakery around us drowning out the fears racingthrough our bones.
“Sounds like we’re both anxious messes,” I said.
Matty huffed a laugh. “Pretty much.”
“But you’re still gonna meet him, right?” I asked.
He met my eyes and nodded slowly. “Probably. Because if I don’t, I’ll always wonder.”
Something in my chest loosened at that. “Same.”
