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I raise a brow at him, using my pillowcase to wipe myself up. “What, like together? In the shower?”
“Yeah, I thought that’s what you meant.” His face falls slightly as he turns back around. “Probably weird, huh? Forget I said anything.”
My heart skips a beat as I scramble out of bed. “No, wait, I’m coming. Just wasn’t sure if you’d, like, want to.”
“Never showered with anyone before, but I’m willing to try it with you.”
That comment has my chest fluttering as I follow him into the bathroom. Five minutes later, we’re both squeezing under the spray.
It’s cramped, uncomfortable, and awkward as hell.
“Why do you like the water so damn hot,” Matty grumbles, skin red as he soaps up his broad chest, and I nearly slip when I try to rinse the shampoo from my hair.
“Why do you like it so cold? And why’s the shower head aimed so high?”
“If this shower curtain sticks to my leg again, I’m ripping it down.”
Yeah...needless to say, shared showers are definitely not our thing. Fuck that noise.
When we finally crawl into clean sheets, squeaky clean, my limbs ache from trying not to slip in the tub. He pulls me close, warming my back with his chest as he presses a kiss to my neck.
“We’re still okay...right?” He asks, palming my throat gently, and I sigh into the dark as I let my eyes fall shut.
“Yeah, Matty, we’re okay. Always okay.”
In that moment, I really did believe my words to be true.
Chapter twenty-five
Getting stitches sober hurts like a bitch. Even with the anesthesia they injected into my eyebrow, all I want to do is down a bottle of vodka and snort a line.
“Look on the bright side, you’ll have a killer scar,” Devon chuckles, walking beside me out of the ER with an icepack pressed to his swollen jaw, and I scowl up at him incredulously.
“How the fuck can you even laugh after what just happened?”
He tries to smirk, but winces in pain. “Not the first time I’ve been punched in the face during a blow job.”
My brows jump, causing me to hiss when the stitches pull at my skin. “Why does that not surprise me.”
The sun is setting on the horizon as we make our way to his bike in the hospital parking lot, but I come to a halt when I see Matty parked next to it, leaning against the side of the Benz with his hands in his pockets. He looks wrecked, cheeks splotchy and eyes red like he’s been crying.
Good. I hope he feels fucking guilty for what he’s done.
Walking past him without a word, I straddle Dev’s bike, waiting for him to hop on in front of me, but Matty closes the distance between us.
“Can we talk? Please?”
“Go the fuck home, Matthew,” I spit through clenched teeth, a headache already starting to form. Pulling the bottle of ibuprofen out of my pocket, I pop four of them, antsy to get back to Devon’s hotel room so I can spend the rest of the night drinking. Tomorrow, too.
Matty’s fists flex in his pockets, like he’s physically trying to hold himself back from touching me, and I fucking hate it. “Don’t do this. I didn’t mean to hit you, Xed, I swear.”
“What gives you the right to lay hands on anyone?” Hopping off the bike with a snarl, I crowd his space, throwing my arms wide. “Why did you do it? Answer me that, Matthew, I think I deserve it.”
“B-because he was touching you!” He stammers, pointing at Devon, who simply flips him the finger.
“Yeah, because I wanted him to. Try again. Why, Matty?”
“Because I can’t… I can’t leave things like this!” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Because even when you hate me, even when I’ve fucked everything up beyond repair, I still need you.”
