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The young man who discovered that being touched by a man was as thrilling as making love to a girl, the same boy who was sent to receivetreatmentto cure him from some freaky disease.
“We are soldiers from the same war, aren’t we?”
“Afraid so.” He sprinkles kisses on my shoulder. “I love the butterflies. How many do you have?”
My entire body shivers and there’s an ache between my legs. This can’t and won’t happen. We have to put some distance between us. He’s with Matt. They just don’t know it yet.
“The butterflies like you, but keep your lips to yourself, Mr. Cooperson.”
“You’re the one who started with the kissing. Remember?” He taps my nose with his finger. “Why don’t you tell me how I can help, you look tired.”
“The last couple of days have been exhausting, soul-draining. Yesterday Matthew and today you.” I toss my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes.
“So that’s why he wanted me here. He feared you might—”
“Fall back into the habit?” I want to be angry with Matt, but I can’t.
In fact, I appreciate that he called Tristan. The ambiguity of their presence continues to baffle me—wanting to push them back while wanting to be with them. I open my eyes, tilting my head toward him.
“It’s a daily fear, but I work at it during my every breath. Some days are harder than others. You should head back home.”
He shakes his head. “I should, but I can’t. I’ll miss you.”
“I’m… Think about Matt.”
“This is about you. You’re the one who matters.”
There’s no real answer to what I am. Flattered, honored, giddy, and so many other things I refuse to accept. Instead, I continue my campaign.
“You and Matt belong together.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Not sure who is more insufferable, you or him.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my gaze. “You’re obsessed about getting Matt and me together. His new idea blew my mind. Want to hear it?”
“Please, enlighten me.” I extend my hand and curl my fingers rapidly as if asking him to hit me with the new crazy idea.
He clears his throat and smirks. “Matt, you, and me. Can you picture it? The perfect love.”
I choke on my own saliva.
My breathing increases, but I can’t catch a breath. I place my feet on the ground and my head between my knees. His hand rubs my back up and down.
“Slow down. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now let it out. One, two, three. Butterfly, stay with me. I’ve got you.”
Shit, shit. My brain is shutting down, along with my body.
What is wrong with Matthew Decker?
The perfect love.
Nothingis perfect.
“It’s not going to happen, Butterfly, as I don’t believe in relationships of three,” he utters, but I can feel the weight of heartache along with the words.
I remain folded, fearing he’ll know there’s a part of me that likes the sound of it. The irrational side, who I won’t let get involved.
I want to be a part of you.
Those were his words only moments ago. If he was aware of what Matt wants, what was he offering when he said that?
