On my way back from the bathroom, I find Matt standing in the hallway.
"Can we talk?" His tone is casual enough.
It's hard to be around him in that suit. When he picks up on my hesitance a hurtful frown creases his forehead.
"Yeah." I hate that it comes out unsure.
"Why are you nervous?" He can always read through me.
"I'm not."
He nods, rocking on his heels and contemplating something. In an unexpected blur, I'm pulled into a nearby supply closet. He lets me go then leans against the door. His hands are shoved into his pockets.
Is he blocking my way out?
I throw around some colorful words in disbelief, and he lets me. He waits patiently for me to finish expressing my displeasure.
It's a tight fit. Tools and cleaning supplies load the shelves on either side wall.
"So, you're not looking at me anymore?" he says in a low mumble.
My heart sinks. I hate this. I struggle with my words, but can't start a sentence.
"Pen."
My nickname sounds nice on his tongue.
"Why are you shutting me out?"
I don't know how to answer, but for him I try. "You wouldn't get it. You don't remember, and I can't forget." I press my hands to my temple. It's so frustrating that I can't make sense to him. "It's just complicated."
He steps to me, making the closet that much smaller. "Did I hurt you?"
He's wearing the cologne that I gifted him on his birthday. My favorite scent.
"No, Matt." I think of anything to make him hurt less. "But, I can't lean on you right now, and I've never not been able to talk to you before. It's hard."
"I'm sorry." He rubs his stubble, guilt settling into his face.
"It's okay. I can't blame you."
"I was never drunk." He drops the bomb like it would've exploded had he held it any longer. "That was a fancy bottle of soda."
It takes me a moment to process what this means. If I wasn't so high strung I might laugh. No matter how guilty he's feeling, his eyes never let up. His stare is unbearable.
"You lied?" I can't decide if this makes it better or worse. "We never lie to each other."
"I do. All the time."
"Why?"
A humorless laugh sends fresh mint my way. "Because, that's what you want," he says with reason.
He moves closer until I bump into the cold wall. It's all too familiar.
"You want me to play the friend, and I want you however I can have you, so I've learned the script."
I struggle to meet his gaze. How can I when he's talking like this? I wring my hands for a distraction.
"I shouldn't have lied to you, but I'd be lying again to say that it meant nothing for me." He tilts my chin slowly, and our eyes lock. He searches them. "Just to have you look at me...I've missed these eyes."
I've never experienced anything this terrifying. To be confronted by someone with so much vulnerability. It's too intense, too much to handle.
"Be honest with me." He's pleading.
I steady my breath for the blow. "I'm with AJ."
He winces, but doesn't drop his hand. Instead, his thumb traces gently across my cheek. "Even more reason to be honest."
His other hand plays in my hair. His touch sets me on fire, but I wouldn't dream of moving. This thought makes me see clearer, but because I'm scared I close my eyes.
"I want you." It's barely a whisper.
His hands leave me. I feel him step back, taking away the warmth. "But?"
I open my eyes. "I'm with AJ."
"Really?"
"Well, he's my boyfriend, Matt!"
"And, what am I?" He paces, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When you call, I pick up on the first ring, when you need anything I'm there, and when you need someone you call me. Not him, me!" He stops in front of me. "That sounds like a boyfriend to me."
"You did all of that, because you wanted to." My mind races, recounting all of those times. I've been so blind.
"You still don't get it." He's close again, holding my face in his hands. "That's what you wanted from me. You wanted me to work for scraps, and I did that. Just tell me what you want this time."
His answer frustrates me. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" I bury my face into his hand. It's a perfect fit.
"Tell me what you want." The words are gentle, but demanding.
I bite my lip, wishing for another option. One that wouldn't leave someone hurt. "I can't lose you, but he doesn't deserve this."
His eyes lower. He presses his forehead against mine, trying to contain himself in this proximity. I feel it too. The want for his touch, but also the small voice telling me not to be reckless. I want him to drown the voice out, but he doesn't. We stay silent until he speaks.
"I'm done, Penny."
I'm stunned. The hoarse words carry finality in his miserable tone. Though I know what he means, I ask anyway.
"With?"
"This. We'll never be happy if I keep following you around like some lost stray." His hands leave into his pockets, but our heads still touch. "I'm not good enough for you, or else you would've picked me. All this time I really thought it would've been me."
His chuckles are humorless, echoing disappointment and heartache. Crystal eyes flick up to mine before he pulls away. "I can't do this, Pen."
When I call his name, he stops with his back to me. At this point I'm begging.
"I love you, Matt. You know that."
His head tilts, and shoulders rise with a heavy sigh. "I've always loved you." His hand rests on the doorknob. "Always will."
Soon after he leaves, an emptiness creeps into my gut. I feel hallow and alone.