Matthew huffs out a deep laugh. “You’re shocked by that. Why?”
I have to take a second to think that over. “I’m not sure. It’s hard for me to picture you studying the same stuff I am now.”
His muscular arms cross his chest. “Because I’m so old now?”
Since I’ve been hanging out with him, I haven’t thought about our age difference. It’s an almost twelve-year gap, but I feel more comfortable with him than with anyone my age.
I mimic his stance and cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not old.”
“I’m older than you,” he points out. “By a fair margin.”
“So?”
“So?” He laughs. “It doesn’t matter to you?”
“Why would it?” I ask with a straight face. “We have a lot in common.”
“Medicine is one thing,” he points out. “Our mutual adoration for Rhea and The Pimps is another.”
I hold back a smile. “How can you adore the band if you’ve never heard them play?”
He reaches for his tablet. “You and Rhea and every one of those pimps may be surprised to know that the video they uploaded online years ago is still there.”
His fingers race over the screen of his tablet before he turns it toward me.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth as I let out a squeal. There, on the screen, in a grainy, horribly recorded video, is my sister and her band in our garage.
Nothing is in tune, their movements aren’t in sync, but they are playing their hearts out while Rhea belts out lyrics that make no sense.
“I must have watched this at least ten times,” Matthew confesses.
I stutter out a laugh. “Why?”
“Look at the blonde in the corner dancing her ass off.”
I lean closer to the tablet to zero my focus in on the blonde in the corner of the garage.
“That’s you, Faith,” he says in a low growl.
He’s right. It is me bopping along to the music with my hands in the air and my ass shaking.
“You’re a blonde?” he asks, perking a brow.
“Used to be.” I tug on a lock of my hair. “Then a brunette, then I had red hair, blue hair, and now this.”
His gaze wanders my face. “I have a feeling I’d like every version of you.”
“Even the one that can’t dance?” I point to the video and seventeen-year-old me moving to the music.
He smiles. “Even her.”
An hour later, I look up from my tablet to see Matthew munching on a cracker. His gaze is trained on me as he chews.
“Study break time?” he asks.
I shut the cover of my tablet and push it aside. “Study break time.”
“Thank fuck,” he says, exhaling harshly. “I’ve been waiting for break time with bated breath.”
I lean back in the chair. It’s the same chair I’ve sat in when I’ve come here for dinner. It’s ‘my chair,’ as Matthew coined it.
“You weren’t waiting. You were working,” I point out.
“You know that how?”
I let out a laugh. “I just know.”
“You kept stealing glances at me.” He leans both elbows on the table. “I caught you doing it a few times.”
I’m busted.
He’s sitting directly across from me. How could I not look up at that? The man is so devastatingly gorgeous that anyone would struggle to concentrate when they’re in the same room as him.
“I might have looked at you once or twice,” I admit.
“Thirteen times, FU.” He shakes his head. “I caught you grabbing a peek a total of thirteen times.”
Bowing my head, I hold in a smile. “I have nothing to say to that.”
“Fair enough. Do you have anything to say about what happened the other night?”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“The kiss, Faith,” he says with a rasp in his voice. “That kiss and what almost happened after that. I need to know how you feel about it. If I crossed a line, tell me.”
He thinks he crossed a line?
I want him to run over it and never look back.
I want us to pick up exactly where we left off, which was on our way to his bedroom to finish what we started.
“You didn’t cross a line,” I say, trying to keep my tone even because I can’t tell if he regrets what we did or not.
“If my phone hadn’t interrupted us, I would have taken things much further.”
The declaration sends a rush of heat over my skin. I don’t care if I’m blushing. I won’t withdraw from this conversation by hiding how I feel.
“I wanted that,” I admit without reservation.
His chin tilts up slightly as his stares at me intensely. “You still want that.”
He’s not asking. He’s assuming, and rightfully so. I do still want that, very much.
I nod.
“Come with me, Faith.” He moves to stand, extending one of his strong hands to me. “Let’s make this study break a memorable one.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Matthew
After taking a seat in the middle of my couch, I pat my lap.