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Going to university on the other side of the country, Matthew deliberately put in a transfer request at his job so that he could move out here with me, and put me up. He said that I could experience dorm life if I wanted, but that, knowing me, I’d probably get sick of it after six months and want to move out.
He had been on the money. I did get sick of it, but only after four months. No sleep, way too much casual use of hard drugs, and shitty mattresses that had my lower back aching in no time.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a party pooper, and I enjoy having fun. There have been a couple of nights that have entered into local university legend with nineteen year old me at the center of them.
But, as Matthew had said, dorm life just wasn’t for me. It felt too much like a hostel, and I was surrounded by too much… well… failure. Ironic, considering it was in university, but half the people on my floor were going to wash out before their first semester was over!
Even though I liked to party, I also had some bloody dignity, and ambition.
“Thanks,” I said to the cab driver, giving him a small tip for not going past the limit. I walked home, before realizing I’d forgotten my keys. Good thing it wasn’t late – I knew Matthew had to be up early tomorrow.
I buzzed the doorbell, and heard him jogging down the steps a moment later. He opened the door, in nothing but his pajama pants (which, on their own, looked ridiculous because they were bright green), and, not for the first time in my life, I had to stop myself from letting my jaw hit the floor.
“Hey, D- Matthew,” I stammered awkwardly, looking at his lean profile. The guy could be an underwear model.
“Hey, baby,” he said, glancing
at the clock at the top of the stairs. “A little early to be home, isn’t it?” He smiled as he ducked down to give me a kiss on my cheek, and my knees wobbled when I smelled him, recognized the intimacy.
“I was stood up,” I said, infinitely happier that I was now at home with Matthew. Why, oh why hadn’t I just stayed home?
Well, the answer to that one was obvious. I hadn’t stayed home because if I didn’t go out and actually try to form a relationship with a guy – and not just any guy, not some guy who was going to use me and then lose me, but a nice guy, like Ben – then I would not be in any meaningful relationship for the entirety of my university education.
The truth was, though, was that the one person I actually wanted to be with was off-limits, taboo, no-go.
Yup… I wanted to be with my step-father. God, I couldn’t even bear to think about it. How depraved was that?
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, wrapping a muscular, veiny arm around my shoulders and squeezing me. I sucked in air.
“No, it’s okay. It’s just… I didn’t expect it.”
“Come here,” he said, walking into the kitchen. I stared at his wide back, the two ridges of muscle that ran down either side of the dip where his spine was.
“Okay,” I whispered. I sat down at the counter, and he opened the fridge.
“What are you drinking tonight, miss?”
“What?”
“At Bar H.”
“Bar H?”
“Bar Home. Nothing like a little liquid cheerfulness to sweeten a sour mood.” He grinned, and the dimples in his cheeks, just above his jawline cut from steel, were obvious in the low lighting.
Yeah… he was really good looking.
I returned the smile, and perked up. “I’ll have a gin and tonic please, and make it kick.”
“Coming right up,” he said, taking out a bottle of tonic water before rummaging in the cupboard above the fridge for the gin. “But don’t make this a habit, okay?”
“Course not, Da- Matthew.” I kicked myself internally. Why did I keep trying to say ‘Daddy’? I never called him that!
He had my drink made less than a minute later, and slid it across the counter to me. I caught it neatly, but was secretly afraid I might have mistimed it, and sent the glass crashing to the floor.
“Nice one,” he said, putting each hand on the table and leaning forward, so that his chest muscles bulged. “Now who is this dickhead who stood you up, and where does he live?”
I laughed, sipping from the drink before wincing. “Ouch.”
