The Making of Matt (Souls of the Knight 3)

“If I thought that for a second I wouldn’t have done it,” I interrupted, cautiously stepping closer to him, but not close enough for his fist to reach my face. “I know a freeloader when I see one, Alex. I’ve met enough of them since I started in this business. You’re a good friend. My best friend. And believe me, buying you that car hurt my wallet about as much as if I’d bought you a pizza.”

“And that’s the problem. We live in different worlds. I mean seriously, how did us being friends even happen? I work in a club and you’re a freakin’ rockstar! I work my ass off every single day to make rent for a shitty studio apartment downtown while you have a house the size of my entire neighborhood on every continent! I’m a nobody and you’re-”

“You are not a nobody.” Cutting him off once again I strode the last couple of steps toward him until I was right in front of his face. “What’s this really about, Alex? You don’t want the car? Fine. I’ll send it back, keep it with my others, give it someone else, hell I’ll do whatever the fuck you want with it.”

Alex sighed deeply, running one hand over his head and smoothing the bouncy curl back into place. “I just don’t want to be the guy who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter because he happens to know a few famous dudes.”

“People don’t think that.”

“That’s exactly what people think. I’ve had to listen to it all damn evening.”

“So what. Why do you even care?”

“Because they’re my friends, Matt! My colleagues. I’ve known most of them for years. I used to be one of them, you know. Just a regular guy with a regular job and regular friends. Now? Now I’m hanging out with rock gods and porn stars and getting photographed on my way to fucking Wal-Mart! I feel like I’m losing touch with who I am, with where I came from. Like I’m getting all wrapped up in this far-out world full of-”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Will you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Interrupting me! Now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.”

“You were calling me a rock god.”

“Will you be serious for once?”

Sweeping the floor with my eyes, I snorted. We argued more often than a married couple, usually over trivial stuff just like this and so I couldn’t help find it amusing. “I’m sorry, dude, but I can’t,” I said, making my way over to the fridge to pluck out two beers. “I’m trying to understand your point, but I just can’t lose my shit over a damn car. Like I said, if you don’t want it, don’t use it.” Popping the caps from the beers, I shrugged and made my way back to him. “But if you’re gonna start spouting shit about our friendship not being real, or whatever the hell it is you’re trying to say, I’m just gonna ignore you.”

Huffing, Alex accepted the bottle in my hand, walked over to the white modular couch and practically collapsed onto it. “Maybe I’ll borrow it until mine’s fixed.”

A sly smile crawled onto my face, content in the knowledge that I’d won. I watched him as he glugged his beer. He was tense, his back rigid and eyes narrowed. There had to be more to his somber mood than a car, but it was late and I sure as shit didn’t want to risk provoking another outburst.

I forced another topic of conversation and with each sentence thereon I noticed him visibly relax. As we talked about the club, Ryder’s new purple hair and the opening of Elle’s latest salon venture, I found myself growing annoyed with that stupid rogue curl. I drummed my fingers against my knees in an effort to distract them from wanting to reach out and tuck it behind his ear.

The rest of his hair remained blow-dried to within an inch of its life, held together by copious amounts of product from Elle’s salon, but this freakin’ curl had broken free, simply to torment me it seemed. It bobbed with every move of his head, swayed every time he laughed. It relaxed further as the hours passed, clouding his right eye. Alex had beautiful eyes. Not the regular light-blue, but dark like the richest denim. Shiny too, like the Photoshopped kind you see plastered all over glossy magazines.

This had been happening too often lately. Just the other day I found myself staring at his ass while he was shoulder deep in the refrigerator. I didn’t want to look at it but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was almost like he wore magnetic pants that compelled my eyes to lock onto them. I’d never noticed before how perfectly sculpted it was. Tight and round and begging for a pinch. Something was seriously wrong with me and I was beginning to believe all the pot I’d smoked while on the road had started rotting my brain.