When Joss Met Matt
Advance Reader's Copy â Not for Sale
WHEN JOSS MET MATT
A Novel
Ellie Cahill
Ballantine Books
This is an uncorrected eBook file.
Please do not quote for publication until you check your copy against the finished book.
Tentative On-Sale Date: February 24, 2015
Tentative Publication Month: March 2015
Tentative Print Price: $14.00
Tentative eBook Price: $9.99
Please note that books will not be available in stores until the above on-sale date.
All reviews should be scheduled to run after that date.
Publicity Contact:
Ballantine Publicity
(212) 782-8678
www.ballantinebooks.com
Ballantine Books
An imprint of Random House
1745 Broadway ⢠New York, NY ⢠10019
This is an uncorrected eBook file. Please do not quote for publication until you check your copy against the finished book.
When Joss Met Matt
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are theproducts of the author's imagination or areused fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2015 by Liz Czukas
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
B
ALLANTINE
and the H
OUSE
colophon are registeredtrademarks of Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cahill, Ellie.
When Joss met Matt: a novel / Ellie Cahill.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-553-39451-1 (pbk.)âISBN 978-0-553-39452-8 (ebook)
I. Title.
PS3603.A37785W48 2015
813'.6âdc23
2014037328
www.ballantinebooks.com
Book design by Elizabeth A. D. Eno
To Joe, for everything
Contents
Chapter One
Now
It took me weeks to work up the courage, but on a sunny Friday in May, I was finally ready to tell Matt that we couldn't go on like this anymore. But, of course, I was stuck at work. I spent the afternoon feeling like I was standing with my toes curled around the end of the high dive. The anticipation was killing me. When I finished with the last patient of the dayâa rabbit named BugsâI rushed Nellie through the narcotic count and sterilizing the instruments. I wanted to get on the phone with Matt. Like yesterday.
When I snatched up my bag and dug for my phone, I came up empty.
Oh, please let it be in the car, please let it be in the car â¦
 It would just figure if I'd lost my phone on the day I finally got up the nerve to talk to him. My heart pounded as I jogged across the parking lot.
“Come on, come on, come on ⦔ I cupped my hands to the window and peered inside. There, on the floor of the passenger side, my phone was waiting. “Oh, thank you!” I didn't know who I was talking to. The words just fell out of my mouth and a tide of relief made my knees weak.
I scooped up the phone and, clasping it to my chest, took a deep breath. I could do this.
“Just call him. All you have to do is call him. Figure out the rest later.”
But when I looked down at the screen there was already a text message from Matt himself waiting for me.
Joss, I need you tonight. Call me.
My heart shot into my throat. He only said he needed me for one reason, and one reason alone. It was only supposed to be after a breakup.
He'd been seeing someone?
The thought was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.
All the time I spent figuring out how to tell him how I felt, and he was busy going out with someone? He'd never said a word.
“Oh God, I'm an idiot.” I let my head come down on the steering wheel, a little harder than I expected. “Ow.”
Maybe I'd misunderstood. Maybe he'd said it by accident. Maybe his autocorrect had done one of those weird things â¦Â maybe I was grasping at straws.
A knock on the window made me jump. It was my best work friend, Nellie, and she was laughing hard enough to make her ponytail bob up and down wildly. I turned the engine over and let the window down.
“That was hilarious,” she said.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Call him.” The laughter was gone from her voice now.
“But heâ”
“Ah-ah!” She held up a cautionary finger. “I don't care. You were ready five minutes ago and I'm not going to let you weasel your way out of this.”
“But I thinkâ”
“Stop.”
“Nelâ”
“Shhh!”
she snapped. “Call. Now.” And when I didn't move she made as if to reach through the window to do it for me.
I yanked my phone out of reach, smacking the plastic Mardi Gras beads dangling from the rearview mirror with the back of my hand. They chittered gaily together. “I will.”
She rested her elbows on the window ledge and gestured with one hand for me to go ahead.
“I'm not going to do it in front of you.”
“Make the call, and I'll walk away.”
I glared at her, but she just made that Nellie face that said, “Go ahead and try to change my mind. See how that goes for you.”
“I hate you,” I told her, but pressed the speed dial button for Matt. I turned the display so she could see his name and number.
“Thank you!” Her voice was perky now. “Now you better tell him, or I'll have to hit you with my shoe on Monday, mmmkay? 'Kay.” And with that, she was gone, fingers waggling.
“You're a terrible frieâ” I started to call after her, but Matt cut me off.
“Hello?”
Instant butterflies. “I got your message.”
He got right to the point. “Are you busy?”
“No. I'm not.” I hoped he couldn't hear how nervous I felt.
“Do you want to have dinner?”
“Huh?” I blinked.
“Dinner? You know, where you eat?”
I couldn't help smiling, even while my stomach churned. “Yeah, I know dinner.”
“So, do you want some?”
Maybe I'd misinterpreted his text. Maybe it really had been one of those autocorrect disasters. “Um, sure. I guess.”
“Seven?”
“Okay.”
We said our goodbyes and disconnected. I stared at the blank phone for a moment. He would never suggest dinner if all he wanted was Sorbet. So maybe tonight was my night after all. The thought made my stomach go into a full-on Olympic gymnastics floor routine, my heart pounding and cold sweat making my skin prickle. I was going to need some serious courage, and I couldn't think of a store that sold it on my way home from work.
Damn.
Seven years had led up to this. It was something of a miracle we were still on speaking terms after all we'd been through, and I was about to put it all on the line.
To think it had all started over my inability to drink beer.
Chapter Two
Seven Years Earlier â¦Â First Semester Freshman Year of College
Matt Lehrer's college roommate was a politician above all else. I figured that out halfway through his obviously-not-spontaneous visit to my dorm roomâcoincidentally located directly above his. He'd come to invite us to a party, just a couple of hours before he planned to haul a quarter-barrel of Coors Light through the window. All he wanted was to make sure my roommate, Rachel, and I wouldn't narc on him for all the noise. We wouldn't have, but he didn't know that, and I wasn't going to turn down the invitation. I was out on my ownâwell, as on my own as a double-occupancy dorm room at the University of WisconsinâMadison would allow anywayâand determined to have my first taste of freedom. Or Coors Light, in this case.
Rachel was a lot like meâa good girl from a good home with a boyfriend who'd just become long distance. She wasn't sure about the party, but she was willing to come along for the ride. I didn't know anybody in the room, which was expected but still made me hyperaware of everything I did. I felt even shorter than my usual five-foot-two and my curlyâlet's be honest, frizzy at that point in my hair-wrangling historyâstrawberry-blond hair felt like an advertisement for not blending in. The only place left for Rachel and me to sit was on the short end of one of the twin beds, wedged between a big guy from central Wisconsin and the cinder-block wall. The position made it hard to lift my plastic cup of beer to my mouth, which was okay with me. I'd figured out pretty quickly that (a) I didn't like the taste of beer, and (b) it was getting worse the longer it warmed in my hand.
Our host was also playing bouncer, shuttling people through the door in small groups like some half-baked Harriet Tubman. A dark-haired guy perched on the wall-mounted desk just a few inches from Rachel's bare knees. He glanced down at my cup, still half-full, and met my eyes. I took a self-conscious sip.
“What's your name again?” he asked me.
“Jocelyn Kiel,” I said, then quickly amended it to, “Joss.” The only people who used my full name were teachers, doctors, and my parents when I was in trouble.
“Matt Lehrer.” He held out his hand, which I had to shake awkwardly with my left. I wasn't used to shaking hands, but I would have felt even more stupid leaving him hanging. His hands were warm, and his grip firmer than I expected.
“Do you live in the dorm, too?” I asked.
“I live here.” He pointed down to the floor. “You're sitting on my bed.”
“Oh!” I felt like I should get up, even though he'd been watching me sit there for over an hour. Instead I looked down at the bedspread for clues to its owner. It was subtle, brown and blue stripes, and entirely too neutral to say anything about anyone. “That's cool.”
“You're the girls upstairs, right?” he asked, indicating Rachel and me.
“Yeah. How'd you know?”
He grinned, making dimples appear around his mouth. “Chris said I was supposed to be nice to you.” His eyes went automatically to the door, where his roommate was still holding court. Then he spotted something across the room and slid off the desk with an irritated look. “'Scuse me.”
Rachel had wandered off to talk to a girl she recognized from orientation and my beer was almost body temperature by the time Matt came back to his perch on the desk. He looked down at my cup, sighed, and got off the desk again. He bent to whisper in my ear. “Come with me for a second.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just come with me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”
“Relax, I've got something for you.”
“What is it?”
He glanced around to see who was in earshot. “Something I'm not willing to share with everyone here, okay?”
“Like, what? Herpes?”
His eyes widened and he laughed. “Just come on.”
I gave him a once-over. He seemed harmlessâin fact, he practically oozed non-threatening nice guy. Besides, he'd laughed at my herpes comment, how bad could he be? I squeezed out of my seat, and followed him out of the room.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we walked down the hall.
“You're a very suspicious person.”
“Wouldn't you be?”
“Relax,” he replied, smiling over his shoulder with an eye roll.
We left the building by a side door and walked into the cloud of smoke that constantly lingered in the area. It was the only designated smoking area and it was almost never empty. A small clutch of smokers loitered there, leaning on the bike racks nearby. Matt led the way around the corner of the building. It was dark there, away from the lighted sidewalks. Despite his nice guy aura, I knew I shouldn't be alone outside in the dark with a guy, any guy. I'd even be willing to suck in lungfuls of secondhand smoke for the safety in numbers. I slowed my pace and looked back at the smokers.
“Jocelyn, would you relax?” Matt laughed. “I'm not gonna hurt you.”
“It's Joss. And what are we doing out here?”
He reached into his back pocket and produced a small, flat bottle of something clear. “I don't have much of this, but you looked like you could use something a little â¦Â sweeter.”
I hesitated, feeling like an After School Special waiting to happen. Wasn't drinking from a stranger's open container, like, number two on the
Do's and Don'ts of Avoiding Date Rape
pamphlets that had been in the welcome folder we'd all gotten?
“It's not even open, promise,” he said, holding up his other hand in surrender.
“You read the date rape pamphlet, too?” I said, smiling.
“ âNo means no,' ” he quoted, then made the bottle dance. “Peach schnapps, now roofie-free!”
I laughed and took the bottle from him. He was telling the truth, it was still sealed. I cracked the plastic cap and took a sniff. It smelled like candy. Couldn't be any worse than beer, I figured, so I took a healthy swig. It did taste like candy, until the heat hit my throat.
I choked. “It's good.”
His laugh wasn't mean, but my cheeks got hot anyway.
“Good.” He took a drink himself and pulled a face.
“What?” I laughed.
“Kind of girly.”
I smiled and took another sip. “So, why are you sharing with me?”
“Watching you torture that beer for the last hour was depressing me.”
The blush spread from my cheeks to my ears. “I've never really drank much.”
Drunk much?
I could never decide.
“Me either.”
I wondered if that was true, but it hardly mattered. We leaned against the wall together, passing the bottle back and forth. Matt, true to his word, kept his hands to himself. Ahead of us, the wide grassy space optimistically called The Riviera sparkled with fireflies. There was almost no traffic at this end of campus after dark. Just the occasional bus and one car headed toward the university hospital.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“I guess.”
He sipped from the bottle then handed it to me before speaking. “I'm just waiting for someone to figure out I have no idea what I'm doing here.”
I knew exactly what he meant. It was nice to know I wasn't alone.
He turned his head to look at me and the corner of his mouth twitched down. “Can you not tell everyone I said that?”
I laughed. “So why are you telling me?”
“I don't know.” He squinted at me and accepted my offering of the bottle. “You seem like you won't hold it against me.”
“Shows what you know. I could be downright evil.”
“Are you?”
I shrugged. “Still deciding.”
“Well then, I guess I'll have to buy you off with peach schnapps.”
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Mequon.”
About forty minutes from my hometown. I knew the area a little. “Mmm, rich boy.”
He smiled lazily. “Why, where are you from?”
“Milwaukee,” I said.
“Liar.” He handed me the bottle.
“Elm Grove,” I corrected.
“Rich girl.”
“Yeah, right.” But to be honest we were both from affluent suburbs. Not exactly where the Hiltons and the Trumps would live, but comfortable.
He didn't answer so I just looked out at the dark Riviera and let the peach schnapps warm my insides. After a few minutes, heat washed up the back of my neck, and tingled in my brain as a wave of dizziness came over me. “Whoa.”
“Did it hit you?” he said.
“I think so.” I turned my head in his direction and got a faint sensation of spinning. “Yeah.”
“You're a lightweight.” He laughed again.
“I guess so.” I took another drink of the sweet liquor and handed it to Matt. “I should probably stop for a while.”
He shifted his weight to return the bottle to his pocket and leaned into my personal space. He smelled like clean laundry.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He inspected me for a second. “Sure?”
I nodded, making my vision swim. “I think I'm drunk.”
He laughed. “Just buzzed, probably.” He ran his knuckles along my arm. “You're all red.”
“How can you tell? It's dark out here.”
He leaned closer, inches from my face. “You're still red.”
My heart jumped into high gear. He showed no interest in backing away. I thought of my boyfriend from home. Ben, who loved me and promised me we would make it long distance. What would he think about me standing out here in the dark with this dark-eyed stranger? I needed an escape.
“Was Cole Hall your first choice?” I asked. The question was practically obligatory among freshmen. Everyone wanted to know where you
meant
to live, the ultimate clue to how you identified yourself.
He shrugged. “I wanted somewhere in Lakeshore.” Housing on campus was divided into two major sections, Southeast and Lakeshore. Southeast was more centrally located, more urban and newer. Lakeshore was traditionally collegiate, with smaller buildings nestled around quads of green space and the lake in view from about half the rooms. “It's nicer over here, don't you think?”
“Nice and low,” I said without thinking. In spite of their many convenient features, the Southeast dorms were high-rises, while the tallest building in Lakeshore was four stories.
“What does that mean?”
“Oh. I don't like heights very much.”
Or, you know, I have a paralyzing fear of being more than a few stories above the ground.
It wasn't the sort of information I liked to share the first time I met someone. Or ever, if I could help it. People feel obligated to cure others of their phobias, and I didn't want curing. I was perfectly comfortable with avoidance.
“That's funny,” he said, smiling and leaning close again.
“It's nicer over here anyway,” I added, knowing it sounded like the lame afterthought it was.
Matt's hand lighted on my waist and I struggled to swallow. When his mouth was just a breath away from mine, my brain sent up flares and I remembered Ben. “I have a boyfriend.”
He paused. “Really?” He was close enough that I felt his words as much as I heard them.
“Yeah. Ben,” I said.
“Okay.” He backed away and I caught my breath.
“Oh.” I'd sort of expected him to say âSo what?' and kiss me anyway. Apparently he really was as nice as he seemed. Or maybe he had memorized the date rape pamphlet. Either way, he was clearly not the romantic “So what?” type. Not that I wanted him to be, I reminded myself. I had a boyfriend.
“You wanna go back in?” he asked. I nodded and fell in step behind him.
I was late for my first chem lab. I didn't even like the subject, I was only taking the stupid class because I'd made the mistake of telling my advisor I wanted to be a vet when I was a kid, and now I was lost. I felt like the biggest dork of a freshman in the history of the world. My eyes were red with unshed tears of frustration as a result of my frenzied search through the basement of the monolithic chemistry building. In short, I wasn't looking my best when I was confronted with Matt Lehrer for the first time since we'd stood in the shadows of our dorm and almost kissed. Well, we'd thought about kissing, I guess. Or, at least, I had. I was sure he'd thought the same thing, but he grinned at me when I came through the door and tipped his head at the empty seat at the table beside him. Apparently, he wasn't bothered by my rebuff of his advance.
I took the last empty seat at the four-person table. One of the legs on my stool was short, and it tipped far enough to make me flail my arms a bit. Matt was across the aisle, but he smirked at my suave move, and held up one finger in the signal for “Wait a second.” After listening to the teaching assistant introduce herself, Matt tapped the guy next to him on the shoulder. He whispered, “Hey, would you mind switching with my friend?”
I must have looked skeptical about the title, because Matt dropped a wink at me. The guy was willing to switch, and I didn't want to cause any more of a scene than my late arrival already had, so I took his seat.
Matt leaned sideways on his lab stool, close enough to stir my curls with his breath when he spoke. “Thanks, that guy hates me.”
I turned my head to give him a confused look. “Why was he sitting with you?”
“He doesn't know he hates me yet.”
“What?”
“I fully intended to let him do all the work.”
I laughed loud enough to get everyone looking at me, which made my cheeks burn. Matt laughed softly and whispered, “Sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I'll make it up to you.”
“How?”
“See the two people on the other side of our table?”
“Yeah.”
“Pre-med. Honors types. We'll pass this class for sure.”
I twisted in my seat to look at him. “I think you're my kind of evil.”