Page 69 of Offside Angle

I reach for the bouquet, and our fingers brush as he hands it over. Matteo immediately notices. I know he notices because his eyes drop to our hands before snapping back to my face like I might not catch him doing it.

I catch everything.

“Thank you,” I say, and this time I don’t tease him.

The flowers are beautiful, but it’s the fact that he brought them that has me staring at them for a second longer than necessary. Ten years ago, Matteo couldn’t let me kiss him without laughing and running from what it might mean.

Tonight he came to my door carrying flowers.

I look back at him.

He’s still standing in the hallway.

“You planning to stay out there all night?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far.”

Of course he hadn’t.

My smile finally wins and I step aside and open the door wider. “Come in, cariño.”

Matteo steps inside and I close the door behind him.

For a moment, he just stands there, staring at me with the dazed realization that he actually followed through with this. His mouth opens.

“I…”

Nothing comes after it.

He frowns, rubs the back of his neck, and looks briefly annoyed with himself. It’s almost unfair how adorable he gets when all that usual confidence deserts him. I’m used to Matteo taking up space without thinking about it, cocky and loud and completely at home in his own skin.

This version of him clearly spent the entire drive over rehearsing twenty different speeches, only to forget every single one the moment I opened the door.

Then his expression changes. “Fuck this.”

Before I can ask what exactly he’s decided to fuck, his hand catches the front of my sweatpants and pulls me toward him.

For one second, I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admits, his breath warm against my mouth. “I must look like a fucking idiot.”

I glance toward the bouquet in my hand. “A fucking idiot with flowers, cariño. Very distinguished.”

A laugh escapes him, quiet and startled, and some of the tension finally leaves his face. “Tell me I’m not crazy,” he whispers. “Tell me I didn’t almost get my ass kicked by Cole for nothing.”

That wipes the joke out of me.

I could tell him a hundred things. That he isn’t crazy. That I’ve wanted him since long before either of us had enough sense to understand what that meant. That nothing about what happened between us was imaginary.

Instead, I kiss him.

The first time felt like a question.

This doesn’t.

Matteo’s mouth opens beneath mine almost immediately, and whatever nerves brought him here turn into something hungrier. I toss the flowers onto the couch and slide both hands up his chest, then into his hair, pulling him closer until there’s barely any space left between us.

He makes a sound against my mouth and grabs my waist.

And then I feel him change.