matthew
I ring the doorbell, my hands shaking. I look down at my shoes and then look up again, not hearing anything from the other side of the door. I look back to the driveway where I parked my car right behind hers. “I’m already outside, so you can’t pretend you aren’t there,” I say loudly to the door, knowing she is debating whether or not to answer it, “and I’m blocking you in.” She tried to cancel this about fifteen times in the span of a ten-minute conversation. “I’ll just sit out here on your stoop and eat,” I announce to the door and then hear the lock turn. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, the second I hear the noise I wonder if she will be able to hear it.
The door swings open and I see her and my heart slows down right away, knowing she’s right here. “I was in the bathroom,” she says. “Come in.” She moves aside and I walk inside, going straight to the hallway.
“Figured I owed you dinner,” I say to her as she closes the door and walks to stand in front of me. “And maybe an apology,” I try to joke with her, but from the look she gives me, it falls flat.
“Maybe?” she huffs. “Maybe?” She walks over to the door and opens it up. “Get out.” She points outside.
“Okay, fine,” I cave. “I definitely owe you an apology,” I say softly. “I owe you a lot more than that.”
She closes the door and folds her arms over her chest. “Go on.” She doesn’t move from in front of the door.
I knew we would be doing this, but I thought for sure it would be while we were eating. I put the food down beside me, just in case she does kick me out of her house, at least she is going to eat. “Wow, so we are doing this right away,” I start, looking at her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asks, her eyes going into slits. I wish she would give me an option to talk, but I’ve riled her up and she’s ready to go to war with me. I can see it in her eyes that are so dark now, and all I want to do is hold her face and kiss her until her eyes are light again. I also know from the look she is giving me, if I do that, she is going to shoot me in the ass and then the foot.
“For fucking everything,” I finally admit.
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “You wanted this little chat. You are going to get a little chat. Let’s start with you not calling me to cancel the plans.”
I close my eyes, not wanting to do this, but knowing I have no choice. I brought this on myself and it’s time to face the music. “But instead of calling me and, you know, cancelling, you made me worry that you were hurt somewhere.” I just watch her because she’s right. I’m about to tell her this but she holds up her hand. “So what do you do? You come home and I’m annoyed because you aren’t on the side of the road bleeding out?” I am about to laugh but I roll my lips. “Not only are you not bleeding out, you’re drunk as a fucking skunk. And what do you do, Matty?” She cocks her head to the side and folds her arms over her chest. Her chest is rising and falling as if she ran a marathon.
I hold up my hand. “You want to do this; you call me by my name. To you I’m Matthew,” I remind her, “and I know what I did. I fucked up in ways that I can’t even explain.” I finally start talking, the words coming out like word vomit. “I fucking fucked up so freaking hard that there are no words I can say that can make it forgivable. You have to know, Sofia, it was the booze talking.”
“You broke up with me drunk, and then the next day sent me all my stuff!” she yells at me. “The next day!” She throws her hands in the air. “You can’t blame the booze on that!”
“That is where you are wrong,” I say gently. “I did it that night.” The words come out soft. “I was so pissed that you just left, I stormed in the house and started packing up your stuff.” Her arms fall to her sides. “So I’m even more of an idiot, I know. But when I woke up the next day, it was a blur. I swear to you, Sofia, I didn’t even remember that I packed your stuff up. I woke up and saw all your things gone from the side table and then bits and pieces were coming back. But then I was coming to you when David,” I say, his name raising my eyebrows, “knocked on my door and presented me with my own box.” She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, David; the same David I told you had his dick wet for you. He was returning my stuff to me with all of our pictures cut in half.”
“He did not!” she declares, not looking at me. “And you are missing the point.” She looks at me. “You fucking broke my heart!” she yells at the top of her lungs, anger filling the room. “You fucking shattered me!”
“Do you not think I broke my own heart?” I ask, hating I hurt her so deeply. “You don’t think that it killed me just as much as it killed you?”
“I have no idea,” she says softly. “You know why, you didn’t even bother to come and see me, to come and talk to me. To do anything.”
“I tried to call you a week after,” I tell her, “but your phone was already disconnected.”
“Oh, it was fucking disconnected two days later. Two days I waited for you to come and see me. Two days, telling myself, you know that he’s going to come, just you wait.” She shakes her head. “I was wrong.”
“There are a few things I’ve done in my life that I regret,” I tell her, swallowing the lump in my throat. “That night is number one on that list. I lost the best thing that has ever happened to me. I lost the woman I loved more than life itself. I lost half of my soul that night.”
“Well, you got it back.” She laughs. “You were getting married.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you wanted to do tonight. I don’t know why it matters, to be honest, we have moved on.”
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize to her instead of telling her that I haven’t moved on, I don’t say the words. Two years later, and one look at you and I’m right back in it. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I broke us. I’m so fucking sorry,” I say in a whisper.
“You are two years too late,” she says and my heart shatters in my chest.
“Didn’t you always say it’s better late than never?” I point at her, hoping she throws me a rope because I’m in the water and it feels like I’m drowning.
“Okay, fine, I accept that you are a horse’s ass.” She looks at me. “What do you want?”
Everything! my head screams but my mouth is in control. “To be friends.” Saying the words feels like acid in my mouth.
“I am not going to be friends with you.” She shakes her head.
“Why not?” I ask, shocked. “I’m a good friend!” I shriek. “I’m a very good friend.”
“I have enough good friends,” she informs me.
“Everyone can use more friends.” I put my hands in my pockets because my cock has decided that this is the part where I show her how much I want to be her friend.
“Not me, but thanks.” She cocks her head to the side and with her hair up it gives me access to her neck.
“Okay,” I concede, walking toward the door and her. I see her eyes turn a touch lighter, and I even see the disappointment on her face. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.” I lean down, and our eyes lock right before I kiss her cheek. “See you soon, Sofia.” I walk to the door and she hasn’t moved from the spot she’s in. “I got you a burger with cheese and bacon and fried pickles.” I open the door, hoping she says not to go, but I know her. I know she’s going to let me go. I deserve it. I know it. She knows it. But what she doesn’t know is that I’m not going anywhere.
* * *
I’m walking off the ice, and for the first time in a long time, I slept like a champ. Of course I woke up with the biggest hard-on of my life, even after taking a shower and jerking off to her, twice.
As I walk into the room, sweat is pouring off my face. I put my stick against the wall and walk over to my spot on the bench. Grabbing my phone, I see that I have a message.
Rhonda:
Package was delivered this morning and was accepted by Sofia Barnes.
I smile as I put my phone down and hurry up in the shower. I put on shorts and a T-shirt with a team sweater. I grab the baseball hat, putting it on backward, my wallet and phone. “See you tonight, boys,” I say, rushing out of the room and to my car.
I arrive at her office twenty-five minutes later; the traffic was insane today. I go up the front stairs two at a time, pulling open the door and stepping in. A woman is standing at the desk. “Hi, can I help you?” she asks, looking me up and down.
“I’m here to speak to Sofia Barnes,” I reply, smiling at her. She picks up the phone and calls her. The woman turns around so I don’t hear her talking.
She turns around and puts the phone down. “She’ll be right out,” she says before she walks out of the room and down to where I know Sofia’s office is. I hear her heels before I see her.
She’s wearing a white tight skirt that goes to the middle of her calves but has a slit in the front that goes to her knees, the black shirt she is wearing is cut too low in the front for my liking, “What are you doing here?” she asks, smiling, but I can see she’s pissed. Her teeth are clenched together.
“I was making sure you got my gift,” I tell her, smiling. This morning I rushed into the rink and got one of my jerseys, and then hit up Rhonda, the public relations girl, asking her for two tickets to the game tonight. Then I begged her to make sure Sofia got it. I made it on the ice with a minute to spare. I now owe her a signed jersey from my grandfather.
“I did.” She nods her head at me.
“And?” I say, waiting.
“And nothing, I got it.” She folds her arms over her chest, making her tits push up.
I take a step closer to her. “Are you going to come?”
“No.” Fuck, she is so beautiful. “I don’t like hockey. I’m more a football fan these days.” Her eyes go a shade darker when she lies. And she moves her eyes from side to side.
“You are lying.” I point at her.
“I’m not lying,” she huffs.
I fold my own arms over my chest. “Then you definitely should come so you can see why you miss it.” I step even closer to her.
“I don’t miss it,” she insists so fast that she doesn’t have a chance to hide the lie.
“You know I can tell when you are lying.” I laugh.
“You don’t know me, Matthew,” she declares and I close the distance between us, standing toe to toe with her.
“Oh, I know you, baby,” I say softly, right before I step away from her. “See you tonight,” I tell her once I get to the door, “and wear my shirt.”
I open the door to step out. “When pigs fly,” is the last thing I hear before the door closes behind me.