Night Owl(35)

Chrissy's jaw dropped.

Worth it.

Watching Matt with my family that day was pure pleasure, and I'm not exactly sure why. He shook hands with my dad and they quickly fell into conversation about the stock market. Even I couldn't get Matt's attention at that point. Dad offered him a beer and he politely declined, though later Matt brought a bottle to me.

"I should have brought a six pack," he whispered. He wrinkled his nose as he handed me the Coors. Our fingers brushed and a jolt went through me. Our eyes met. Had he felt that?

"Sorry my family's beer doesn't meet with your approval."

"Mm, no help for it. At least I'm not drinking it."

"Ooo, the snob emerges."

"No help for that, either."

I laughed and shoved him. I could feel mom, dad, and Chrissy staring at us. When I looked up, they all jumped back to their tasks, mom setting the table and dad grilling, Chrissy messing with an extension cord so she could get her CD player outside.

Mom had to forcefully extract my brother from the basement. Jay came sulking out with a Frisbee. Matt grinned when he saw it.

"Oh, a Frisbee," he said, sidling up to my brother. I could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant. So f*cking cute. "Nice..."


Matt plucked the Frisbee from my brother's hand, kicked off his flip-flops, and jogged across the lawn. Jay looked forever grateful for the absence of introductions.

The table was set and dad was grilling and Chrissy was dancing scandalously on the lawn. Mom went in and out, lighting citronella candles. I leaned against the deck railing and watched Matt and my brother throw the Frisbee.

It seriously wasn't right, especially when Matt decided to follow Jay's lead and shuck off his t-shirt. Holy Adonis in motion. He moved with effortless grace, his long limbs flexing as he tore after the Frisbee, and every time he leapt to catch it I would swear his shorts slipped lower on his hips. Was he doing this on purpose?

I couldn't wring a glance out of him—even when I tried. I tossed my hair and cocked out my hip. I leaned forward, making my cleavage swell. I tried a little wave. Nothing.

The boy was as bad as Daisy, speeding single-mindedly after the Frisbee.

Hmph. Two could play at this game.

I went inside and changed into a pair of tiny torn up jean shorts and a blue bikini top.

Back outside, I leaned into the rail again and pretended to be enjoying the sun.

Nothing.

Matt laughed as Jay and Daisy collided.

What the hell! Show the man a Frisbee and I no longer exist?

Chrissy tugged on my arm.

"Dance lesson time," she said. "Don't fight it, Hannah. I told you this was coming, and the time is now."

I resisted for a moment. I was so not about to make a fool out of myself in front of Matt. But who said I'd make a fool out of myself?

"Yeah." I smiled hesitantly. "Okay, let's do it. Teach me how to twerk."

Chrissy squeed and pulled me onto the grass by her CD player. Hip-hop throbbed out of the speakers. First she demonstrated, her hands on her knees and her booty popping to the rhythm, then she arranged my arms and legs and started coaching me through the motions. It was surprisingly easy. Once I got the basics down, she showed me how to throw in body rolls and make my ass jiggle like Jell-O. I could feel my jean shorts riding up.

"This feels amazing!" I shouted way louder than necessary.

I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Matt gaping at me. The Frisbee sailed past his head, narrowly missing it.

Success.

My parents aren't priers, thank god, so no one pestered Matt about his work or life as we ate. My twerking lesson also had more than the desired effect. I caught Matt watching me every time I looked at him. He slid his bare foot over mine. Fuck, I'd done this to myself.

When mom and Chrissy started to clear the table, Jay darted back inside. Dad went to fiddle with the grill and avoid cleanup.

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck. Matt was gazing at my little blue bikini top.

"Why don't you show me around?" he said quietly.

Another thing I was learning about Matt: this guarded, dark look in his eyes meant only one thing. I was about to get f*cked.

I took him on a tour of the house. I lingered upstairs, around people, and Matt followed me patiently. In fact, he seemed unusually interested in everything. He smiled at a picture of five-year-old me with curling pigtails.

"The little bird," he said, touching the frame.

We were in the living room. I shoved my hands into my back pockets.

"Yup. And that's really about it. Home sweet home."

Matt smirked at me.

"Show me your room," he said. He closed the distance between us and seized my breast. I gasped. My hand flew to my mouth. In the next room, I could hear mom humming as she loaded the dishwasher. "Or I'll do this right here."

Matt wasn't bluffing. He slid the little triangle of fabric off my breast and started to rub his thumb over my nipple. I staggered back.

"Okay, okay!" I whispered. I adjusted my bikini top. "God, down boy."

Matt laughed and I fake glared.

Bossing me around in my own house! He had no limits, a fact I should have known by then. I also should have known better than to tease him with the dance, but maybe I did. Maybe knowing better was exactly why I did it.

I wanted him in my house.