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"I just…" he lets out the breath he’s trying to hold in. "I like that you're not like the girls we go to school with. You're—"
"Innocent?"
"Yes," Matt offers me a crooked smile. "You're not sleeping around or trying to pressure anyone into having sex with you."
Suddenly, I wonder if Matt and Audra are doing more than just kissing. Is she pressuring him to do stuff? Are they doing it?
It makes me feel physically ill just thinking about it.
My chest starts aching. I press a hand over my heart, will it to stop hurting. But the pressure doesn't quell the sharp pain that's settled here.
I don't need to worry about Matt's sexual experiences. He doesn't want to have those experiences with me so maybe it's time to make a few things clear. Set some much-needed boundaries.
"Eventually, Matt," I say softly, breaking the awkward silence, "I am going to find someone I want to do those things with."
His face falls, like the thought of me having sex with someone crushes him.
He leans slightly in my direction, his eyes filled with so much...I can't even tell the emotion. Sadness? Regret? Pain?
What's going on in that handsome head of yours, Matt?
"And when I do," I continue, "I don't need to ask your permission."
Matt nods before resting his elbows on his knees. His fingers twine together, and he rests his chin on his hands. "I hate that you're not going to Prom because of me."
I lift a shoulder, offer him a small smile. "You're not the reason I'm not going." Fine, not the only reason. "No one asked me, and I would much rather have a girls night with Fallon than get grinded on by any of the guys we go to school with."
"You should come with us," he suggests. "I'll even save you the first and last dances."
I pretend to consider his offer. "Tempting, but I'm going to have to pass."
"I get it," Matt nods. "You're afraid my stellar dance moves are going to put yours to shame."
"Yeah," I giggle, "that's it. I'm so jealous I can't twerk as well as you can."
His lips part and he lets out a deep laugh. I've missed that sound. "Or the Sprinkler."
"Maybe you should be the captain of the dance team," I joke as I reach a hand out and playfully slap his arm.
Matt's gaze lingers on his arm, on the spot I just touched. I should start making a conscious effort not to touch him, even innocently. A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about how I touched him, how much space I should put between us. Now, it seems to be the only thing I can think about.
"Thank you for my birthday present," he smiles as he tears his eyes away from his arm. "Must have cost you a fortune."
Fun Matt fact: he enjoys collecting First Edition Pokémon cards. I know it sounds nerdy and immature, and maybe it is, but it's something he only really shares with me.
"Let's just say I had to do some pretty shady stuff to earn that money," I tease him. "That Pikachu card wasn't cheap."
"It was really thoughtful, Jen," his voice breaks as he says the nickname only he calls me.
Before I can respond, he leans into me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. I hesitate before I embrace him back, rest my chin on his shoulder, wonder why this feels so good and, yet, so wrong at the same time.
Because I'm in love with him.
And he keeps reeling me back in with every hug, every sad look in his eyes, every worried sentence that spills from his lips.
This isn't good for me. Him being so close. I know I need to do something about it. I need to find a way to stop hurting, stop hoping he'll change his mind, start healing.
I need to pull away from him, from the close contact that makes my broken heart throb inside my chest.
