Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(75)

Me: Are you gone yet?





Matt: No.



I had assumed not. Students are allowed on campus until noon tomorrow. Knowing Matt, he’ll lock his dorm room door at 11:59 in an effort to spend as little time at home as possible.



Me: Meet me at the light post in two minutes.





Matt: Bossy much?





Me: Jerk much?



I know the last text is rude, but he doesn’t get to start teasing with me after basically avoiding me for a week.

“Where you going?” Eden asks, watching me put on my coat.

“Just gotta talk to Matt for a sec.”

“Light post?”

I nod, offering a small wave before closing the door behind me.

The light post is just that—an old-style looking light post that sits on the fork in the sidewalk between a set of men’s dorms and women’s dorms. Since we’re not allowed inside the dorms of the opposite sex, and loitering in front of the windows is tacky and frowned upon, quick in-person conversations are unofficially held in this area. Archaic as it sounds, it’s nice to have a plan when grumbling about the rules gets you nowhere.

Jogging up the small hill, I see Matt’s broad back leaning against the pole. Football finished two weeks ago, CU’s final game commencing just before finals started. I don’t know what his plans are for all that muscle in the off-season, but I hope he finds good use for them beyond punching someone—which is what he always looks like he wants to do.

“Took ya long enough,” he mumbles slyly, not turning to face me.

“To what? Have enough of your crap?” I shoot back.

He lowers his head, and instantly I feel bad.

“Sorry,” I say. “Look, I don’t care about the last couple of weeks. I just need to know if you’re staying in Rome during the entire break.”

Matt snorts. “Like I have anywhere else to go.”

“Stop being melodramatic.” Stepping in front of him, I finally get a full view of his face. And a fresh-looking black eye. “Oh, God,” I groan loudly. “It’s finally happened. You got in a fight.”

He flinches as my fingers trace the purple swell around his left eye, but he doesn’t move my hand. “No, there was no fight. Just me and some teammates horsing around at our post-season party.”

I shake my head. “Why are men such fools? Anyway, you know I’m staying with Roland for break.”



He nods. “Because Dean Baker is a—”



I put my hand up. “That. Yes. Anyway, turns out, I’ve got to go to the Family Values thingy with him.”

Matt’s eyes focus on me for the first time in the conversation. “Which one is he going to?”

Tapping my index finger off the tip of his nose, I smile. “Rome, baby. We have to meet up.”

Matt smiles, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll one up you, baby,” he teases. “Roland has had plans for six months to stay at our house during the conference.”

“Really?” I’m starting to sound like Eden with all my high-pitched shrieking. “But … will he still stay there with me? Like … rules and stuff?”

Matt twists his lips. “Talk to him. You’re a quick thinker.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You want a sleepover, Mr. Wells?”

He blushes, rolling his eyes before looking down and scuffing his feet a little. It’s almost just like a movie. A very PG movie. This is the most flirting I’ve done in five months, and it feels borderline erotic. My voice is all breathy, like a soap opera actress with mile-high hair and bad makeup. Matt looks torn on how to answer, and then I remember the whole no-hugging moratorium because he might actually like me, or something. My eyes sting with tears realizing that I crave his touch. His arms around me, and the sweet smell that comes from between his neck and shoulders.

“Date me,” I blurt out.

Matt’s eyes bulge. “Excuse me?” He chuckles indignantly, shaking his head.



“Date me, Matt. So I can hug you and hold your hand, and … please. Don’t make me beg. That’s hardly chivalrous.” I sniff, but laugh to try to cover it up.



Matt drops his hands and leans back against the pole. “No.”

My stomach sinks so fast, I’m knocked off-balance. “What?”

“Don’t ruin this.” He growls a little. Sticky gravel coursing through the back of his throat.

“Me? You’re the one who won’t hug me anymore because you’re afraid it messes with my virtue, or something.”

“That’s what this is about? You want a hug?”

I hold my arms out, and nearly shout, “Yes! Please! I want a hug. From my best friend.”

“So you don’t want to date me?”

Clenching my fists and dropping them to my sides, I take a deep breath. “Yes I do, Matt. I want to date you. Because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to date anyone who knows less about me than you do. I trust you, and value you and … wait. Why am I pleading here? Why are you saying no?” I take one step back, realizing I inched closer to him during my rant.

“Kennedy,” Matt takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face and back over his head, “you deserve way better than me. Don’t trust me. You’ll just get hurt.” Pushing himself off the post, Matt walks in the direction of his dorm without another word.