When Joss Met Matt (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Now

And now we were on the verge of another round of Sorbet, or so it seemed. I looked down at myself. My scrub top was covered in black and gray fur. There was also a water ring across my belly where a guinea pig had peed on me early in the morning.
Yuck.
I peeled it off as I went upstairs, and dropped it, followed by my pants, into the washer in the bathroom closet.

Dewey wandered into the room. He always got concerned when I spent any time in the bathroom. I think he was impressed with my ability to immerse myself in water. Maybe he was waiting for the day when I finally realized how horrible it was to be wet. I don't know, but he settled himself on the rug with his paws tucked in, and looked up at me with feline interest. I scratched his head with my toes and turned on the shower.

I had learned in my first month as a veterinary tech that there was no point in showering before a shift. Well, I guess I could shower before, but I'd just have to do it again at the end of the day.

“Mow,”
Dewey advised me.

“I'll be fine,” I told him and stepped into the shower.

It felt great to get the guinea pig pee off my torso and the smell of animal fear out of my hair. It was kind of ironic that animals were so scared of going to the vet, when all vets and vet techs are animal lovers. No exceptions. You don't get into the field if you don't love animals. In my case, that love extends only to the furry varieties. Luckily, a lot of vets don't do exotic animals. Reptiles and birds need not apply, thank you very much.

I heard my phone ringing on the bathroom counter, but I knew I'd never dry my hands off quickly enough to get it. Besides, not everyone enjoys talking to someone in the shower.

Finishing up, I pushed open the sliding door. Dewey jumped to his feet and began pacing in a circle, yowling and mewing.

“I'm all right, you idiot,” I said, stepping onto the bath mat. He reassured himself by rubbing against my wet ankles. “Yuck,” I admonished him, nudging him away. I didn't need a fresh coating of cat hair.

Checking the phone, I saw that the call had come from Nellie. She never left messages, so I just called her back.

“So how'd it go?” she answered the phone without a greeting.

She was going to be disappointed in me. “It didn't.”

“Why not?” she shouted, loud enough to make me jerk away from the phone.

“He said he needs me.”

Nellie was one of the few people in my life who knew all about my Sorbet arrangement with Matt. To say she did not approve would be putting it mildly.

“You are
not
going to sleep with him!”

“I don't know,” I lied.

“You are so dysfunctional with him!” she protested. “You promised me—no, forget that—you promised
yourself
you were going to stop with this bullshit.”

“Nellie.” I sighed. “You don't understand.”

“Oh, I understand plenty. You just sit around waiting for Matt to break up with his latest hootchie so you can scrape up the sloppy seconds.”

I pressed my fingers to my temple. We'd had this conversation ad nauseam. “It's not like that. He does the same for me. It's mutually beneficial.”

“It's mutually sick.”

“Nellie,” I whined.

“I like Matt, you know that.” Everybody did. He was just one of those guys. “But you two are like an episode of
Jerry Springer
waiting to happen. Seriously, what are you going to do when he gets married?”

The thought made me ill. “He's not getting married.”

“Do not argue semantics with me, Joss. You have to end this. Now.”

“I'm not doing it over the phone,” I said.

“Fine. But do it. Tonight. You are worth more than these booty calls.”

“Nellie,” I said again, but without the whining tone.

She sighed into the phone. “Joss, I love you. You know that. Just fix this.”

“I know.”

“Call me later.”

But even with Nellie's scolding in my ears, and my own resolve from earlier in the day, I still found myself going through the usual post-shower rituals that I always did for Matt.

I have to confess to a unique level of primping before a night with Matt. I guess it's easier to maintain the illusion of perfection when you only go to bed with someone a couple times a year at the most. I shaved my legs to baby-smoothness, exfoliated my entire body until it was beet red, then soothed my skin with handfuls of expensive lotion. I even put a dab of perfume behind each knee and in my cleavage.

I devoted some time to choosing an outfit, starting with the frilliest, prettiest underwear I owned. Silk, lace, and bows, what more can a girl ask for? I've always been a huge fan of lingerie. Passing Victoria's Secret, I hear a siren song that I simply cannot refuse. Wearing it makes me feel pretty. Even when I have guinea pig pee on my scrubs, I feel pretty wearing lingerie. Matt has always been fond of my collection, and I found myself picking out some new things he hadn't seen even though I told myself it was coincidence.

I really was pathetic.

Dewey hopped up on the bed and started batting around my panties.

“Stop it!” I yelped, all too aware of what his claws could do to silk.

He took them in his mouth and jumped off the bed, headed for one of his secret hideaways. I pursued, catching him at the top of the stairs, and carefully extracted his prize from his teeth. No damage.

“You're lucky you didn't rip these! I would have …” I shook my fist at the cat, who was unimpressed with my idle threat.

Back in the bedroom, my phone started ringing again. It was Matt this time.

“Hey, Joss, it's me.”

“What's up, Matt?”

“Instead of going out for dinner, do you want to come over? I can make something.”

I did a double take at the phone. This was completely unprecedented. It took a second to find a normal tone to reply. “Wow, you're spoiling me rotten today. I can't wait to hear this story.”

“I'll tell you over dinner,” he said. “Pasta okay?”

“Yeah, sounds fine. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself. Be here at seven.”

A glance at the clock told me it was a few minutes after six. I would have enough time to control my hair and make it to Matt's right on time. We said goodbye and disconnected. Dewey was on the threshold of the bedroom, eyeing me with no small amount of contempt.

“What is going on in your boyfriend's head?” I asked him. The cat loved Matt with slavish devotion.

“Yeah, I don't know either.”

He yawned and eyed the silk underwear still in my hand.

“You're too late,” I told him, shaking them in his direction. “I'm putting them on.”

I stepped into my underwear and headed back to the bathroom to do battle with my hair. Curls are nothing to be trifled with—if you can master them, you'll have good hair for life, if you can't … you might as well start amassing your hat collection now. There is no hope.

Three products and a light diffusing later, I was satisfied with the result. The last step was a little makeup, and then it was back to the closet. I couldn't help hesitating. Normally, I'd pick something and call it a day, but Matt had thrown a wrench in the system with this whole dinner thing.

Am I misinterpreting this?
I wondered.
Maybe he didn't mean he
needed
me.

I drummed my fingers on the edge of the closet, considering. There was something distinctly unusual about the evening and I couldn't put my finger on it. I could call Matt back and demand answers, I knew. That was part of the deal. We were friends. Good friends.

He would probably laugh it off and tell me I was thinking too hard.

I sighed and chose a trusted black top. It was one of those go-to shirts that I put on when nothing else seemed right. It would be fine for dinner, and it would be fine for my walk—er, drive—of shame tomorrow. I supposed I could bring a change of clothes for the morning, but that was never part of the deal. I don't exactly know why, other than the fact that we established the rules during college.

Written rules. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't remember which one of us had them last, though I remembered clearly when Matt had started the list …

Chapter Eight

Seven Years Earlier … Second Semester Freshman Year

There is an art and a science to staying friends with someone you've slept with. Matt and I were blazing new territory in the field, however, as we'd never had a relationship prior to having sex. Since he'd come up with the concept of Sorbet Sex, it was tempting to defer entirely to him for protocol. But he didn't know what to do any more than I did. We never talked about it, but the casual touching was the hardest part.

When I'd get to chem lab, he'd be waiting in his seat and I never quite knew what to do. Act like he hadn't seen me naked and keep my distance? Embrace it and kiss him on the cheek? High five? Fist bump? Perhaps just a thumbs-up. Eventually, we settled on a high tolerance for incidental touching. Like when I slipped into class late, he leaned in and put his hand on my thigh to ask if everything was all right. But we never went beyond that, which was good, because another guy in our lab section asked me out just before finals.

He was my first First Date since my First Date with Ben. No lie, I was nervous. But I knew I would have been more nervous if it hadn't been for the magic of Sorbet Sex. I was no longer the girl who gave it up to her high school boyfriend and got summarily dumped. Chem Lab Guy got to be just someone I went on a date with. Turned out, I liked dating.

By my second semester as a college student, I'd gone out with, or had study dates with, three guys. I kissed them all—even the one who had spent the evening talking about his ex-girlfriend—because I wanted to. There was a time I'd imagined myself to be one of those girls who got lucky, found love early, and made it last forever. Now that Ben had proved me wrong, I found that I didn't want to be a girl who waited around for Mr. Right. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to find him, but I was okay with finding a few Mr. Right Nows along the way. So I kissed them all, and let one of them get me out of my pants. I didn't sleep with him, but he got to see my polka dot panties. I also committed two party crimes of opportunity with guys I couldn't recall the names of later. Not my proudest moments, but I didn't regret any of it. I could live with being a kissing slut for a little while. It was fun not to be a good girl.

Matt and I were in the same ethnic studies class second semester, and that's where he met Her Highness. She had a name, Courtney, but I never called her that. At first, it was because I didn't know who she was. Then, it was because I did.

She was pretty, I'll give her that. More like beautiful. Long dark hair, olive skin, and perfectly straight, white teeth. She was one of those people I could hardly believe existed. Especially being a member of the much more average group of humans: I had curly hair that I had not yet learned to control. At that point, I was still a frequent victim of frizz and a frequent ponytailer. Add to that a build like a fourteen-year-old boy, and a loud laugh that made me show off all of my teeth, including my fillings. Her Highness had no fillings.

It took Matt a few weeks to get her to talk to him. I was sitting next to him at the time, with Geena to my left. Their conversation was whispered, since we were in class, but I could hear it well enough.

“I've been trying to figure out how to get you to talk to me,” he said. “And I can't think of anything.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “And?”

He shrugged. “I just think you're beautiful, and I want to get to know you.”

She smiled—just a little—and whispered, “I'm Courtney.”

“Matt,” he said, and offered his right hand to her, just as he'd done to me the first time we met.

She raised an eyebrow, but shook his hand.

At the end of class, Her Highness slipped Matt a piece of paper with her number on it. We let her walk away before we spoke.

“Well, well … the ice queen thaws,” Geena joked.

“Nicely done, Matt.” I raised my palm and he gave me a high five. It was a testament to how well we'd learned to be platonic friends that I really was excited for him.

“Thanks.” He grinned at us.

“I can't believe you just told her the truth and she went for it,” I said as I threaded my arms into my coat.

“It was worth a shot.” He smiled. “I guess it worked.”

“Hey, you guys, I gotta get to the M.E. building,” Geena said, looking at the clock on the wall. “I'll see you later.”

Matt and I said goodbye to her and walked out onto the crowded sidewalks.

“So what are you gonna do now that you've got her number?” I asked.

“Call her.” He gave me a look that filled in the unspoken
“obviously.”

“And what are you going to do to impress … what's her name again?”

“Courtney.”

“Yeah, her.”

He stepped back to let me precede him down a short flight of steps. “I have no idea.”

“Sticking with the honesty thing, huh?” I teased.

“Yeah, I'm sure she'll be really impressed when I call her and say, ‘I want to take you out, but I don't know where.' ”

“Oh, for sure, girls love that.”

He smiled at me. “I'll figure it out.”

He must have done something right, because the next week when I got to class, Courtney was sitting next to Matt with the full force of her white smile shining on him. I sat beside Geena in the row behind them.

“I think she has extra teeth,” Geena said in a low voice when I was settled.

“I think they just reflect light and
look
like more,” I said.

“Like diamonds?”

“Yeah.” I leaned forward and whispered in Matt's ear. “I take it you did well on the phone.”

He didn't speak but nodded slowly.

In a matter of weeks, Matt and Courtney were officially dating. Or at least it seemed that way to me. He took her out a few times, and they always sat together in class. When she ran out at the end of class, she always gave him a kiss on the cheek and a million-watt smile. Matt said she had a class to get to right after, so I never really got a chance to talk to her until Matt invited her to a study session for the mid-term.

Geena and I arrived at the library together, and found Matt holding down the fort at a table in the crowded group study area.

“Hey! Where's Her Highn—Courtney?” I asked.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but ignored the slip. “She should be here any second.”

“I'm glad we finally get to talk to her,” I said. “I feel like you've been keeping her a secret or something.”

Matt shook his head. “Nah, she just doesn't really come to our side of campus ever.”

“Still, you should bring her around. We need a chance to give you our approval,” Geena agreed.

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed with an eye roll.

“Afraid of what we'll think?” I raised my eyebrows, which is not all that impressive since they're strawberry blond and practically invisible against my freckled forehead.

“No. She's great.”

“Afraid of what
she'll
think?” Geena asked.

“That's more likely,” I agreed.

“Yeah, so behave yourselves,” he said, standing up to flag down Courtney from across the room.

Geena rolled her eyes at me, but was all smiles by the time Her Highness joined us at the table. We did the typical exchanging of names, and Courtney dropped her leather bag in the middle of the table.

“So you guys are friends with Matt?” she asked.

“We live in the same dorm,” Geena supplied.

“Oh.” She was digging through her backpack when she spoke, and emerged with her cell phone. She checked the display and turned her mouth into a pretty pout before stashing it again.

We studied for a bit, but it was hard to focus. Her Highness seemed to know half the people in the library, and everyone kept coming by to talk to her. It took me a few interruptions to realize what was wrong: she wasn't introducing Matt as anything but a guy from her class.

After an hour, Geena let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, you guys, I have a lot of work to do for my physics class. I'm gonna head out.”

We said goodbye while she packed up, and once she was gone, I was the official third wheel.

“Hey, you wanna get some dinner?” Matt asked, looking at Her Highness, then me.

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed.

“Joss, you in?”

I hesitated. I didn't really want to be on a date with them, but I was hungry. “If that's okay with you guys.”

Her Highness shrugged. “Whatever.”

As unwelcome as I obviously was, I wanted to go anyway. Her icy bitch routine was fascinating in the way that a car accident is. I needed more time to stare at her. I wanted to see her thaw and get a glimpse of whatever it was that attracted Matt to her. Apart from the obvious facts of her face and those damn teeth.

We packed up and hit the street. Courtney wanted to go back to the Southeast side of campus, closer to her dorm. It would mean a long walk home later, but I hadn't eaten at that cafeteria, so I thought it would be worth the adventure.

Sitting at dinner with Her Highness was a lot like sitting in the library. She seemed to know everyone. Or at least everyone who had come from the East Coast. The girls all shared a similar look—dark hair, tanned skin, a lot of white teeth. It was like they'd been discharged from a cloning facility. I felt very out of place with my orangey curls and Norwegian looks.

Courtney was engaged in a conversation with a particularly loud pair of girls when I decided not to hold my tongue anymore. I leaned closer to Matt and whispered, “Are you sure we can sit here? I don't have a Prada bag.”

“So much for being a rich girl, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow, as if he was enjoying me coming down a peg or two.

“I never said I was a rich girl.” I reminded him, enjoying throwing it back in his face.

He grinned. “Oh, that's right, I said it.”

“You wanna revise that statement?” I asked.

“Nah.”

I whacked him in the leg with the side of my foot and he laughed.

“Um, Matt?” Her Highness directed her attention to Matt for the first time in a while. “I've gotta get going, okay?”

“Oh.” He blinked. “I guess I'll talk to you later.”

“Great.” She gave him her big, beautiful smile and I was struck again by how pretty she truly was. “Sounds good.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Bye.”

She disappeared with her friends, leaving us staring after her. Matt seemed considerably more impressed than me.

“Where's she going?” I asked.

“I'm not sure.”

“Doesn't that bother you?”

He redirected his attention to me. “Why?”

“I thought you guys were, like, a thing.”

“We've gone out a few times,” he said with a shrug. “I guess that's a thing.”

“You talk about her like you're a thing.”

He shrugged and popped his last French fry into his mouth.

I studied his face, and couldn't get anything out of it. He seemed … impassive. “She always kisses you on the cheek,” I said. “Has she ever done more than that?”

He laughed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Oh?”

He grinned at me. “I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“'Cause that would be rude.”

I raised an eyebrow. “There's nothing to tell?”

He shrugged. “Not much.”

“You haven't slept with her?”

“Um …” He drummed his fingers on the melamine cafeteria tray. “Yeah. I did.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, no … I mean, I … you just seem so … unsure of yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

I searched the ceiling for the right words, and of course, found nothing. “Matt … you got me to sleep with you like that”—I snapped my fingers—“how can this princess be making you act all weird?”

He laughed. “Okay, first of all, it was not like that.” He did his own snap. “We had a deal. There were rules …”

“Oh, that's right.” I nodded, as if I was just now remembering. “Rules. Did I sign a contract that I'm not aware of?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “In blood.”

“Wow. When did that happen?”

“That night you were all over that frat boy. You seriously don't remember this? I faxed a copy to your office …”

“Remind me to fire my assistant.” I laughed.

He slid his tray out of the way and produced a pen and notebook from his backpack. “I'll just give you the bullet points.”

“Great, thanks.”

A few minutes later, Matt slid the notebook across to me. His handwriting was a testosterone-induced scrawl, but I could read it.

“That's it?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I can't remember all the details off the top of my head.”

“Is there anything in the contract about wearing devil horns?”

“Strictly optional.”

I laughed.

“You can keep this.” He tore the page out and handed it to me.

“Great. I'll have my assistant laminate it.” I tucked it into my own backpack.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah, let's go.” I collected my tray and followed Matt to the return conveyor. “So, wait—what was your second of all?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said ‘first of all, it was not like that.' ” I snapped again. “What's the second of all? Why is Princess Courtney making you all weird?”

He dropped his tray onto the conveyor belt and sighed. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, what is it?”

“You're not going to like it.”