18 - Jessica

Jessica

Miles is tucked in bed hours ago and the house is eerily silent. If it wasn't for my unbudgeable craving for pizza, I would've been in bed, dreaming about island made out of donuts. I tiptoed around the house, a shopping bag on one arm. My cheeks seared at the thought of a shopping bag. Miles picked the wrong shopping bag. It should've been the overtop, feather boa I brought for my grandma's birthday. Or the silver, backless gown I planned on wearing to her party.

Anything! Just not the one that made me want to dig a hole on the ground to bury my face in. Life has this way of punishing me.

I flicked on the light in the living room. Since "everybody else" in the house is probably asleep, it's probably safe to be out of the confines of my bedroom. Just thinking about being in the same room with him again makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Just not now. I have to glue back together my shattered self-confidence.

I slumped down on the floor and began wrapping my gift, waiting for the pizza to arrive from that one pizza place who's mercifully open at this hour. And then I went to the kitchen to pour myself some wine. Two glasses later, I decided to grab the bottle and leave the glass in the kitchen.

Straight from the bottle it is.

I slipped back into the living room, gulping down wine only to choke right by the doorway because Matthew is sitting quietly on the sofa.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He walks over to me, his hand going behind me and started rubbing my back.

Despite the fact that I was choking to death, I couldn't help but notice he's wearing a plain, white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I think this is the most casual I've seen him look. When the coughs slowly subsided, I realized he was close and smelled nice.

Is that aftershave?

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hand still rubbing my back.

I swallowed hard. "Yeah. What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you."

"Oh," I blinked, "wait what? Why the hell would you wait for me?"

"I wanted to talk to you. I knocked at your bedroom and realized you were not there. I came in the living room and noticed your... stuff."

I stepped out of his proximity and walked inside. "I was just wrapping a gift."

"For whom?" He asks thoughtfully. Like it wasn't just making small conversation.

"My grandma."

He nods. And then there's was that look on his face.

I sighed. "No. I'm not giving her the lingerie."

His blue eyes broadened a bit. "I didn't say anything."

"Well, your face definitely said something." I clasped my hand around the bottle of wine and swallowed a couple of gulps.

He watched me silently.

"I would offer you a glass, but I'm drinking straight from the bottle. Didn't expect anyone else to be awake." I shrug, wondering where my self-consciousness around this guy had gone. Maybe it was the wine that made it go away.

"No, thank you." He leans against the doorframe and slides a hand to the pocket of his sweatpants. "Why are you still up?"

"I had to wrap a gift. The birthday's still weeks away, but it's better to be prepared."

"Oh. It looks nice."

I cleared my throat. "What did you wanna talk about?"

"I just want to talk about us."

My stomach twisted into a knot. "About us?"

"Yes. I figured if we want to make this co-parenting work, we should clear the air between us."

I nod slowly, then took another swig of the wine. "You mean this stubborn awkwardness?"

"Yes, specifically that."

"So, what do you wanna do about then?"

He thought for a moment. "Maybe we can start fresh as friends?"

"Hmm. Friends."

"It won't be weird, right?"

"Us as friends?" I gestured to both of us, "doesn't sound weird to me."

His lips curved into a little smile. Slow and charming, if I were to be completely honest. There was a dimple on his right cheek which made that one little smile the cutest thing in the world.

I leaned against the sofa, my mouth slightly gaping.

"What's wrong?" Matthew's brows creased together, the smile fading away from sight.

I shake my head. "I forgot you have a dimple."

"Oh, this one right here?" He pressed a finger on his right cheek where the dimple supposedly was when he smiled.

"Yeah. You don't have it on the other cheek?" I took another gulp of wine. I think I'm halfway down the bottom.

"No. Just this one. One of my brothers has dimples on both cheeks though."

"Really?"

He nods smilingly. "Cade does."

"Wait, what? Cade?"

"Yes. You never noticed?"

I laugh. "I wasn't really sure. I think I would've been sure if he doesn't scowl at everybody ninety-five percent of the time."

He chuckled softly. "He's not one to be comfortable in a crowd."

I raised a finger. "That I'm a hundred percent sure of. God, there's never a dull moment around your siblings."

Matthew regarded me mirthfully. "How about you? You're an only child, right?"

I nod. "Yep," I answered, taking one large gulp of the wine.

"Any cousins you never had a dull moment with?"

"Nah. Never really been close with relatives. Being an only child sucks."

He stared for a moment. "Funny. Most people I know wish to be an only child."

"I know, right? They think it's magic." I snorted.

"It's not?"

I shake my head. "Nope. But I bet you never wish to be an only child."

He rolled his shoulders. "We work with what we got."

The doorbell rings, interrupting the first ever fluent conversation we ever had.

"It must be the pizza guy." I laid the bottle on the coffee table.

"Pizza guy? At this hour?"

"Mm-hmm. That's what happens when you order a pizza. A pizza guy shows up at your door." I shuffled my way toward the doorway, stopping when he stood in the way.

"I'll answer the door."

"Why?"

"You can't open doors to strangers. Especially if it's this late."

"It's not that late." I stepped to the side.

He blocked the way. "It's almost midnight."

"If I scream, call the cops," I kidded.

"Look, can't we just both answer the door together?" He looks down to me, arms crossed over his chest.

I sighed. "Fine."

We walked side by side until we reached the front door. "So how can you tell that he's an axe murderer and not a pizza guy?"

"Maybe if he's holding an axe instead of a pizza," he answers, a hint of humor in his voice.

I laughed. "Okay, then."

He opens the door, and a guy holding a pizza stood in the front steps. I gave him a big tip for not being an axe murderer.

"What's next on our calendar?" I opened the box and inhaled appreciatively.

Matthew turned away from the closed door after locking it. "We have to get groceries."

"We do? But, what about Kylie?"

"Vacation."

We started walking back to the living room. "Really? I never heard. Kylie never told me." I pursed my lips disapprovingly.

"She probably didn't have the time. Christian arranged a vacation and surprised her this morning."

"Wow. Must be one hell of a surprised. He hadn't roofied her or anything, did he?"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Gee. I'm kidding, Matthew. Your brother's too whipped to do anything like that. When do we go to the grocery?"

"Is it all right if we go tomorrow?"

"Yeah, totally." I grinned, then slap my forehead when I remembered something, "oh, no. Wait. I have to go to work tomorrow."

"What time do you get off?"

"I think I'll be done by five."

He nods. "Okay. I think I can do the groceries—"

"You can't go alone. I open the fridge more often than you do. If anything, I've caused most of the shortage here. We'll make this work."

"How about if we go after you get off?"

I beamed. "Absolutely. See? I told you we're gonna make it work."

Happy reading, you guys! I hope you're all doing great. Enjoy your weekend. Just because you haven't done some work, doesn't mean you're not being productive. You can still be sitting on the couch in front of TV binge-watching Grey's Anatomy (like I do) and call it a productive day. If it has made helped you cope with all the stress and has put your mind to ease and lessen the anxiety that you feel, it's being productive.

I really miss updating twice a week like my old update schedules.