Is there a way to say I want to wrap her around my cock and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her at the same time? But I can’t because if I do, I run the risk of seeing that look in her eyes again. The one that seems . . . scared. Or maybe even worse, lonely.
“It’s complicated,” I say finally.
Matt’s eyes go wide. “Motherfucking hell, Etling.”
“What?” I tug at my hat in some kind of nervous twitch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he sits back in the broken chair’s companion and crosses his arms over his chest. A grin so smug I’d knock it off his face if he were anyone else sits happily on his lips.
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Simmer down, lover boy.”
My jaw sets. “I’m not gonna punch you, but I’m not above kicking you off that chair.”
He just laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs, and all the while, I get more confused.
“Why do you find this so funny?” I ask.
“Oh, the same way you think me falling off a ladder is funny.”
“You know, I really don’t think it is. I just screw with you.”
His arms drop to the table with a thud. He leans forward and looks me in the eye. “And I really don’t think this is funny either. I think it’s awesome.”
“No one uses ‘awesome’ anymore.” I don’t believe this, but for some reason saying what Avery told me makes me happy.
“Says who?”
“People,” I say.
“Well, people are dumb.”
Looking at the ceiling and rubbing my eyes, I regret inviting him over for pizza.
“I’m not good at this shit, okay?” I say. “I’m in a jam here and am trying to work it out like I think you would. Or fucking Dane would. Hell, even like Trevor if I’m in a pinch. But I don’t know how to do this with her.”
“And why not?”
“Because . . .” Because I don’t know. Maybe because I’d ruin it. Or it’s possible that she’d eventually figure out I’m a screwup and leave. Even more possible is that she’d want to be serious-serious, and I’m not about that life. “I don’t know why. I just know.”
“You sound like a child.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Matt grins. “Look, the fact that you even realize you don’t know how to do this, whatever this is, with her and want to figure it out, is telling.”
“It tells you to leave me alone? Perfect.”
His smile fades. “Penn, listen to me. This is normal. It’s called feelings, and you can’t die from them. They won’t make your dick stop working, and they won’t ruin your life, no matter what you think.”
“You’re a comedian.”
He doesn’t look fazed. “Want me to break this down for you in the simplest terms?”
“Honestly, no. But you’re going to, anyway. So do it now so you don’t come up with a reason to come over tomorrow and talk me into buying you pizza again so you can get the nerve to say your spiel. Just get it over with.”
He should be slightly offended by that, but he’s not. He might even be proud, and I’m left to ponder where I went wrong in my delivery.
Shit.
“Why are we friends, again?” I ask.
“I ask myself that every day.” He gets comfortable, which is a bad sign. “Now, what’s happening here is that you’re willing to not fuck Avery or pursue her for the ultimate objective of fucking her in exchange for spending time with her.”
I scrunch my face. “You make it sound so gross.”
He laughs. “It’s not gross. It’s not something I ever thought I’d see out of you, but here we are. And I’m kind of happy about it.”
“Well, good for you.”
I pick up my empty soda can and take it to the trash. It’s more for a reprieve from Matt’s dissection than to clean up the kitchen. As I’m watching the metal can hit the liner, I think about what he said, and I can’t dispute it. He’s right. I’m not fucking her just so I can be around her.
What does that even mean?
My heart pounds in my chest, and I want to grab my balls and make sure they’re still there.
“Penn?”
“What?”
“Breathe.”
“I’m breathing,” I say.
Matt stands. He picks up his can and walks it over to the trash. “A relationship isn’t the worst thing—”
“Whoa. Hold up. How did we get here?”
“Where?”
“To discussing relationships.”
Matt grins. “I know you think you’d fail at a relationship, but how do you know? You’ve never tried.”
“Because I’m self-aware. I know how I’m wired, and I’m not wired for exclusive relationships,” I insist. “It’s all fun and games until someone realizes who you are. Everything is roses until you don’t do what they want. The blowback from that is avoidable, and I want to avoid it. Period.”
“But that’s saying that those things will happen.”
“Matt,” I say, shaking my head, “they will happen. You can create a facade for the world, like the walls we build at work, and make it palpable. But who you are down deep, the ‘you’ that someone would get to know if you’re in a relationship, is a different person sometimes.”