Bound Together (15 page)

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders,
and swallowed
down my humiliation. “If you could….that would be extremely helpful.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He was on his feet faster than I would have thought possible, throwing his shirt on over this head and checking his pockets, mumbling to himself. I thought I caught the word
pharmac
ie
. It wasn’t like I was contagious or something. He gave me a quick peck on the
cheek
and was out the door.
When the
door
clicked
behind him
, locking me in
,
I felt
completely
alone.

I changed into sweatpants, then stuffed a bunch of tissues in my underwear and paced the room, waiting for Matt to get back with the goods. It took him forty
-
five minutes. I let him in the
room, more annoyed than grateful
that it took him so long
, but that quickly faded when I saw how nervous/ excited/ helpful he was
trying to be.

“I wasn’t sure what to get.” He dumped
a
brown paper bag onto the bed. He brought back three boxes of tampons, one for light flow, one for heavy and one that was scented
. A
long with
a
green package
called
s
erviettes
hygènique
, which seemed to be pads
.

“Is this enough?”

“Uh, yeah
.
F
or six months.”

He smiled
, clearly pleased with himself
.

I grabbed a box of tampons and headed to the bathroom. When I came back, he was lying across my bed watching TV.
I figured he’d be gone b
y the time I came out, scared off by the female crisis at hand.

“All better?”
H
e
patted the bed beside
him.

I walked tentatively towards him, then
sat on the edge of the bed.
I
t took me a minute
to figure out why he was still here
, but
then it struck me
—
he wanted his reward.
I inched closer to him.

“Lay down,” he said.

I lay next to him and started kissing his neck.

“
Mmm
.
T
hat feels nice.”
He squeezed me closer.

He smelled like Abercrombie cologne
, clean and woodsy
.
I worked my way up to his jaw, then finally to his mouth. Our kissing started out soft at first, but once my tongue met his, I started to get into it again. I slipped my hand into his jeans.

“Wait,
Zoey
.”
He grabbed my wrist, effectively stopping my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s awesome.” He kissed my
forehead
. “It’s just we probably shouldn’t, you know?”

“No, it’s cool
—
I have
some
tissues nearby.”

“That’s not what I was referring to.”

I pulled my hand from his jeans. “What is it, then? I’m not good enough for you? After you’ve been with Chelsey?”

“What? Of course not. That first night here, you t
old me this was a business arran
g
e
ment.
” He looked down and re
-
buttoned his
jeans
.
“
Do you even like me?”

“I like your body.” I slid my hand u
nder
his
shirt, caressing his
stomach. “What’s the problem? I th
ought we agreed to this friends
-
with
-
benefits thing?” I was very aware that I’d said friends rather than
frienemies
this time
, but didn’t correct myself.

“I guess,” he said. “But, besides, you’re on your…” 

Typical male, couldn’t even say the word period. “What, do I gross you out?” I pulled back from him.

“No,” he said more enthusiastically than necessary. “
I just feel bad I can’t return the favor.
” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “
I want to make sure the lady I’m with is having a good time.” That cocky grin I’d grown used to was back.

“I
was
having
a good time
until you interrupted us for this commercial break.” I swatted him with a pillow
. He grabbed it and flung it back at me. A
nd before I knew what was happening, we were
hitting each other with pillows
and wrestling on my bed
. I
t was like a kinky game of twister, and I was pretty flexible in these sweatpants
. He
tickl
ed
my waist
and pulled me on top of him
. His eyes were bright and happy and he was grinning at me like a fool.
Damn
, he was cute. I was going to miss this, and that scared the shit out of me.

Chapter
Twenty

Matt

Zoey
had almost given me a heart attack
yesterday
. When she’d gotten up suddenly during
our make out session, my first thought was that
she was searching the room for condoms.
But it was a totally different product she’d been looking for. One
, that
for some reason
, I
agreed to search the city looking for.

I liked that
Zoey
didn’t pressure me to be who ev
eryone else thought I should be
—
but at the same time she c
hallenged me in unexpected ways
—
to be who I wanted to be, someone who was not fake but felt like an actual human again. It was okay to be real around her, to talk about John, even to get a migraine and she didn’t freak out. If she c
ould see the darkest side of me
—
a side I
showed no one and still like me
—
what did that mean?

It
was our last full day in Paris, and like an omen it was pouring. Mr. Rhinehart was running around trying to pass out
a revised copy of the itinerary
—
one he’d created for “inclement weather” but everyone was laughing and crumpling them up.

The rain wasn’t keeping anyone inside on our last chance to see the city.
A group of us walked down to the Eiffel Tower, fighting our way through the crowds, and trying to avoid the obvious scammers looking for money from the rich American tourists. Whenever the wind picked up, the unmistakable smell of urine wafted by. The rain finally stopped, and the sun came streaming through the clouds, drying the dampness all around us.

While our classmates went to McDonalds and Starbucks,
Zoey
and I headed to the open air market
and picked out French pastries
—
a croissant and a pear
-
vanilla muffin, then grabbed baguette and a wedge of soft cheese and made our way to the park.

We sat on a park bench
to listen to an outdoor string-
quartet concert. I set the food down and spun
Zoey
around and tried to dance with her
. She made a throat
-
slashing motion at me, and I released her
. I settled for sitting next to her, listening to the music while we ate.

Zoey
looked longingly at the street cart selling hot pressed sandwiches. They did smell amazing. “Matt, go order me a something,” she said, eyeing the food.

“You have to conquer ordering for yourself,
Zoey
. Just try it. I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“No, you’re better at it. I’ll get it wrong and probably come back with a
n old shoe
. Plus, at home I’ll have to take care of myself plus the kids, so, never mind...
forget it.
”

“What? Say it.”

“It’s nice having you
do stuff for me
.”

I chuckled and shook my head, but then stood up and squinted over at the street vendor. “What do you want?”

“Something good and
Frenchy
.” She tried to hand me some euros.

“No, I’ve got it,” I said.

I carried back two
hot ham and cheese
paninis
for
us
.
We unwrapped the soggy paper and I watched as
Zoey
bit into hers, crunching through crispy bread, gooey
cheese oozing from the sides of it. She actually moaned when I bit into it.

Chapter
Twenty-one

Zoey

It had been an interesting week, and unexpected in a lot of ways. Matt continued to surprise me. And if life had taught me anything, I didn’t like surprises. I needed to know what to expect, what I could count on. Growing up like I did, I craved things I could easily categorize, control and move past. Matt had turned out to be none of those things. Yet, I had liked this week with him much more than I expected to. But I knew this was all a fluke
—
it was the allure
and m
ystery of Paris and each of us being out of our element that allowed us to connect. Back in South Lake, this would have never happened. We’d had fun, but now we would both go back to our lives, which certainly didn’t intersect.

So it only seemed fitting that I was spending my last night in Par
is doing what it was I did best
—
taking care of someone else. Stephanie and Bobby had dropped Amanda off sloppy and drunk and left me to balance her over the toilet and hold her hair back.
Fan-
flippin
-
tastic
.

Done barfing for the moment, I leaned Amanda back against the bathroom wall. “Stay,” I commanded,
heading to
answer
a
knock at the door.

Her head slumped to the side and rested on her shoulder.
“
Mmm
hmm,” she mumbled.

I pushed my hair out of my face, and pulled open the door. It was Matt. He was holding two chocolate croissants. “Baked goods and dirty Scrabble?”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “
You can c
ome in, but I should warn you that Amanda’s passed out in there.” I nodded toward the bathroom.

“Is she sick?”

“Yeah, Bobby and Stephanie dropped her off drunk for me to deal with.” He waited in the door way. “I probably won’t be much fun tonight.”

“That’s okay, I was just sitting around and thought I would come find you. I could use the company.”

I stepped aside from the doorway. “Enter at your own risk.”

He brushed in past me and I could smell his Abercrombie cologne. My mouth started to water and I wasn’t sure if it was the promise of baked goods or him.

He handed me the croissants, then turned on the TV and flopped down on my bed. It was unmade from my earlier nap and somehow it seemed too intimate to have having lying on my sheets. I stood there awkwardly, holding the pastries. “Make yourself at home.”

He rolled over on his side to look at me. I set the pastries on the dresser, then went to check on Amanda. Rather than the sitting position I’d le
f
t her in, she was curled around the toilet bowl, lying on the bathroom floor. “You okay?” I pok
ed
her with my foot. She nodded without opening her eyes. “Alright, well, I’m just going to leave you here for a bit to make sure you’re done. Then, we’ll try some water and put you into bed.”

She nodded again. “
Thanks
Zoey
.” It came out in all one word.

I went back out and sat on Amanda’s bed across from Matt. Not only was he taking up my entire bed, but there was that little detail that I didn’t cuddle. I thought he was deep into the Italian news, watching the busty female news anchor, but he surprised me. “Sucks this week is over,” he said without glancing up from the TV.

“Yeah. Listen, Matt
—
with her sick in there,
we probably can’t do anything
tonight.”