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And he let me.
Con
ItwaslikeIcouldn’t even breathe anymore. I couldn’t function, no blood running through my veins. Death had claimed me.
No. Not really, but I was breathlessly dizzy, and I had to push him away, turning around in juvenile shame.
I was tenting down below, and that was not even the start of it.
“Sorry.” His voice came from behind me as I steadied myself against the wall with one hand, adjusting my junk with the other.
“Don’t you dare apologise.”
“Whatever is going on in your head right now, just tell me. Because nothing here will ever be right if we can’t talk to each other.”
“I…just need this unfortunate boner to go down,” I squeaked out. This never happened on set. Ever. I was the ultimate professional. Everyone knew I was reliable and steady. I delivered. Over and over again.
“Unfortunate boners happen to all of us,” he said calmly. “Trust me. I teach teenagers. Girls in short skirts. Boys with vivid imaginations. Queer kids with insane crushes. Sports day is always interesting.”
“Matt.” I rolled my shoulders and tried to figure out what to do while he patiently waited behind me. I needed to go sit in a dark corner. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
“Says the man who walks around naked more than he’s dressed.”
“That’s different. I didn’t…”
“What?”
“You’re…you drive me crazy. In a good way.”
“Thank God for that.”
“And we weren’t boyfriends when I was walking around naked.”
“We’ve been boyfriends since you hit me in the face. Fact.”
I turned around, stood up straight again. I was fucked. So bloody fucked. Especially since he was pulling off his tie and loosening his top button. Removing his ID, he let it drop to the floor, followed by his white shirt, grey slacks… He shook out his hair.
“Have we?” I was probably drooling, my juvenile stupidity at an all-time high. Right now, if someone had told me to marry him, I’d have done it. No questions asked.
“Let’s change the subject. Food. What do you usually order?”
He was brilliant, always knowing the right thing to say.
“Number forty-two. Extra egg.”
“OK…” He smiled. “And what is that?”
“Don’t laugh. It’s bad enough that the guy who works there ridicules me every time I put an order in.”
“It can’t be that bad. Mrs Wu has won awards for her cooking. You’ve seen the place. They’re all on display behind the counter. Chef of the Year in 2016 or something.”
“Which makes it even worse.”
“Do you want me to order something else? Broaden your horizons?”
“Says the guy who only ever orders number seventeen.”
“You are absolutely my boyfriend. You even remember my noodle order.”
