Maybe Matt's Miracle(31)

Sky: But…you’re not.

Me: I plan to.

Long pause.

Me: After I make you fall in love with me.

Sky: This is too fast, Matt.

Me: I almost died. Twice. I don’t like to waste time.

Sky: Oh.

Me: I like you. And I think I could love you.

Sky: It’s too fast.

Me: It scares the shit out of me, too, if it makes you feel better.

Sky: It does.

Sky: Are you coming over tonight?

Am I? I almost feel like I need to distance myself a little.

Me: I have appointments for tats at five, eight, and ten. So, I can’t tonight.

Sky: : - (

Me: I’ll see you tomorrow at Seth’s match.

Sky: Would it be weird if I tell you I miss you already?

A grin steals across my face.

Me: Not if you mean it.

Sky: Thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.

Me: You in love with me yet?

Sky: Can I like you for a little while?

Me: Please do.

Sky: Talk to you later.

Me: Yep.



###



It’s almost ten thirty when I realize my last appointment is not going to show up. I have been counting the hours, wondering if I could get out of here and go see Sky before she goes to bed. I still don’t like the way we left things.

“Oh, just go see her,” Logan says, motioning toward the door. “Get the f*ck out of here. You’ve been watching the clock all night. Go.” He makes a pushing motion with his hands. “Out. You’re making me sad with all the pining.”

“Are you going home soon?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says as he motions toward a tattoo that’s almost done. “Just a few more minutes.” He points toward the front of the store where Friday is sitting with a book open in front of her, studying. “Friday’s still here. So get out of here.”

We have a rule about leaving no one alone in the shop. “You sure?” I ask. My heart starts to beat quicker.

“Get out,” he says. He goes back to work on the tat.

I grab my coat from the hook on the wall, put it on, and get out the door quicker than I ever have before. I can be at Sky’s before eleven if I hurry. I won’t even stay long. But I want to see her.

I rush to her apartment building and take the elevator up. I step up to her door and knock quietly so I won’t wake the kids. I hear soft footsteps, and my heart trips a beat. She opens the door, and she looks so f*cking pretty in her baby-blue jammies and fuzzy slippers that I do the only thing I can think to do. I draw her into me. With a gasp, she falls against my chest. I can’t get close enough to her fast enough, so I grab her bottom tightly in my hands, hitch her higher against me, and then spin us both so I can press her against the wall. I look into her startled blue eyes for a moment, and then I press my lips to her open mouth. She freezes in my arms, and I press more insistently, kissing her softly but fully. I draw her lower lip between mine and give it a gentle suckle.

She doesn’t kiss me back, not completely, and I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong. She murmurs against my lips, but I don’t want to lift my head long enough to pay attention. But then I hear a cough behind us. I look over my shoulder and see a gentleman sitting on the couch. His knee is jumping, and his face is a little bit red.

Oh, f*ck. Her father is here.

I just gave her a really bad kiss. Our first kiss. In front of her dad.

“Matt,” she says quietly, tapping my shoulders with her open palms. “Can you let me down?”

I step back and set her on her feet. “Fuck,” I breathe.





Skylar



Oh, Matt. Why did you do that?

My father’s face is bright red, and he looks like he wants to wring Matt’s neck. I’ve never seen Dad act like this. Not ever.

“Mr. Morgan,” Matt says, nodding toward my dad. “I didn’t realize you were here,” he says. Then he throws his hands up, like he doesn’t know what to say next.

“Apparently,” my father grunts out.

Matt looks at me as though he’s waiting for direction. I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. But I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. As awful as it was, it was perfect, and all I want to do is get rid of my dad so we can do it again and do it better. “Dad came to check up on the kids,” I say.

“And you,” Dad says. He’s still grunting. And his face is as red as a tomato. He’s never checked up on me in my life, though.

“Me and the kids,” I correct.

“It’s late,” Matt says. “I should probably go.” He starts toward the door. But the last thing I want is for him to leave.

I thread my fingers through his and give his hand a tug. He looks into my eyes, and I swear I can see the depths of his soul. I see his longing and I see his confusion and I see his need. “Don’t go,” I say softly, squeezing his fingers. “Stay.”

He nods. I lead him to the couch, and he sits down. He’s uncomfortable as hell, and it’s really kind of endearing to watch.

“I was just telling Dad about the wrestling match tomorrow.” I sit down beside Matt, and he lifts his arm to lay it on the back of the couch behind me, mainly because I press myself up against his side and don’t give him any choice. I snuggle into him and pull my feet up onto the couch. I bite back my smile because I don’t want anyone to know how giddy this makes me, just being this close to him. On purpose.