30 - Matthew

Matthew

Daylight streamed in through his window. He is never wakened up to a sun this bright before. He shielded his face with his hand as too much light stung his eyes. Rolling over, he buried his face in his pillow.

His lips were dry, and his throat was so parched it felt like sawdust. On top of that, his head is throbbing.

New experiences. He thought.

Back in college, he allowed himself a few alcohols here and there, but he made sure it wasn't going to get him drunk. Just lightly intoxicated.

Pleasantly intoxicated.

He tried to get up, grimacing when his head protested. He sat on the side of the bed. As he did, he noticed the glass of water and a couple of Advil on his bedside table.

Relieved, he reached for the Advil and practically chug water. He waited for the headache to subside before chancing a tread to the bathroom for a shower. It took him a moment to reorient himself when he finally made it out of his room which is the guest room in his brother's house whose son is supposedly his priority.

Miles.

The house is quiet. Except for the pots and plates clattering in the kitchen.

Miles must still with Andrei. They have to pick him up.

First thing's first.

Jessica.

He headed to the kitchen. Sure enough, Jessica was there... in her white tank top underneath denim overall, her hair in a messy bun.

Matthew couldn't tell which surprised him more: the fact that she wasn't in one of her revealing lingerie or the fact that she's cooked breakfast.

Not that he was disappointed with the former. Maybe. Kind of. He doesn't know.

She looks up from pouring coffee on a cup and beamed at him. "Look at you. Already back from death. How's your head?"

"Better. Thank you." He smiles.

"I made breakfast. There's toast, bacon and eggs, and of course, coffee." She waved him over and pointed at the vacant seat next to her. "I told Kathie we'll be picking up Miles in an hour."

"Kathie? I thought he was with Andrei."

"The triplets found out he was staying with Andrei and begged their parents for a sleepover." She nibbled on a toast.

Matthew sat next to her and looks down at the aforementioned breakfast, surprised that not a single thing was burnt. Instead, they all smelled great. Sure, they were just bacon and eggs, but he was starving. And right now, they all look delicious.

As he ate his first bite after drinking his coffee, a though crosses his mind.

Jessica Keith is a decent cook.

"You still look a little bit confused. Are you feeling okay?" She asks in between bites of bacon.

Matthew nods. "Yeah. I remember everything last night so far. So, that's a good sign, right?" He smiled, hinting that it was a joke.

She laughed softly. "You're a sunshine for someone with a hangover."

He merely shrugged before digging in with his breakfast.

Jessica took a sip of her coffee. "Oh, we need to pick up Miles' tux from his tailor."

"Mm-hmm." He answers as his mouth was full and couldn't risk a verbal response.

"How about your tux?"

He took a swig of his coffee. He's been notified that it was delivered. And then he realized he forgot to give Vren's address because that's where he's temporarily staying. Since his tailor had his old address, he must pick it up at his parents' house. "Delivered at my parents' house."

She shot him a questioning look which he expected.

"I forgot to give them Vren's address instead," he replied.

She nods, but clearly unsatisfied.

He shifted so he's facing her. "What is it?"

"Nothing." She looks away.

He narrows his eyes at him. "You're confused I still have my parents' place as a delivery address." As embarrassing as it sounds, her mother – more than anyone – refused to let him have his own place. In her defense, he's out of town all the time and is rarely home at all.

"I wasn't," she countered, her eyes on the wall.

"You were."

"Nope."

Feeling a tad mischievous, he gave her side a little pinch.

Jessica let out a loud squeal and flinch so hard he thought he struck her with lightning. "Don't do that," she finally turned to him and swat his hand. "I'm very ticklish and I don't like being tickled."

Uncharacteristically, he smirked – a lot more mischievous now.

She gaped at him for a second, then gave him a warning look. "Don't. You. Dare."

He chuckled. Amused and audacious. His hand moved to give her another pinch.

Jessica launches off, leaving her seat to nearly topple over.

"Come on. Who doesn't want to be tickled?" He stands up from her seat.

Her green eyes broadened with alarm. "Don't you dare," she repeated, this time with less conviction as Matthew slowly walks around the table.

She backs away. When she hit her back against the kitchen island, she made a run for it. He chased her. Of course.

She screamed as she frantically runs around the island and into the dishwasher, grabbing a frying pan. "I swear to God, Matthew. I'm going to smite you. I'm gonna knock the hell out of you!" She held the handle with both hands like it was a baseball bat.

He sprung forward.

She screamed.

She didn't even swing the frying pan. She just squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the handle like she was holding on for dear life.

She was so close and defenseless despite her vocal threats. In a moment of weakness, his arms dropped to his sides, and he just stood there, looking at her freckled cheeks. She has no speck of makeup on. There were beads of sweat on her forehead. Her bun was completely strewn.

He hooked a finger in one of the strands that strayed over her cheek and placed it back behind her ear.

Jessica opened her eyes, suddenly confused.

Their gazes met.

Just then, sunlight dripped from the window overlooking the backyard. It was brighter than it was a second ago. It shone on her face, accentuating her freckles more. Her green eyes went greener, and her hair glowed even redder.

"What in the world is going on?"

They both yelped at the voice coming from behind him.

He turns around.

His mother stood by the door, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. His father is a foot behind, wore the same shock on his face, only his mouth was the shape of a giant O. Draped over his arm is a suit bag where his tux probably is. His parents picked a wrong time thoughtfully deliver his tux themselves. And since everyone has a key of everyone's house, they didn't bother knocking.

His mother murmured something, but so far, all they heard was an incoherent whisper. His dad puts a reassuring hand over her shoulder as if to say, 'I've got this, honey.' "We heard a scream, so we thought..." he trailed off.

"We were just thinking maybe we can bring you your tux ourselves and..." he trailed off.

"We're sorry. We thought there was..." again, he trailed off.

He removes his hand from his shoulder with an I-don't-got-this-after-all look.

Jessica cleared his throat, garnering all their attention. Her face is beet root red, but she manages a smile. "Hi, Mr. And Mrs. Parkinson. We were just, um, having breakfast." She laid the frying pan on the sink. "Uh, coffee?"

"I'll have one. Thank you," his father blurted out, desperate to overcome the awkwardness. "And you know it's just Nick and Margaret, Jessica." He proceeded to sit on one of the empty seats.

His mother blink and followed suit. "I'd loved one too. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to intrude."

Jessica's face flushed crimson scarlet as if it couldn't get any redder. "Oh, you didn't interrupt anything," she forced a laugh and scrambled toward the coffee pot. "Matty, can you grab the mugs from the cupboard?"

Matthew finds himself rushing to the task at hand.

A car beds from the driveway.

They both turned to each other questioningly. There wasn't anything about a visit today that could be on their calendar.

"That must Kathie and the children. We told them we're coming over so, they figured they could drive Miles. I'm sure the triplets loved to little car drive."

They nodded in understanding.

A lot of surprises today, it would seem.

Matthew places the mugs on the dining table and Jessica poured steaming coffees into them. "I better, um, get the door. Excuse me."

She doesn't need to.

Everyone has a key to everyone's house.

He knows she's aware of that, but it was the only excuse at the moment. When she was out of earshot, his parents laughed together.

"Did you see how red she was?" His mother asks in a hushed tone.

"I told you we should've knocked."

"Well, we didn't expect to walk in on an intimate moment," she replies.

Matthew shakes his head. "Guys, I can hear you. And it wasn't what it looks like, okay?"

His dad snorted. "Oh, sure."

"It's the truth," he insisted.

They both gave him a funny look.

His mother raises a hand and does a dismissive wave. "Honey, no need to be ashamed. We all love Jessica."

"Mom, I told you it wasn't like that."

"Son," his father sighed, "you heard your mother. No need to fight it. We're all happy."

"No. We're just friends."

His mother smiled. "That's great, sweetie. That's a great foundation for relationships. Your dad and I started as friends." He shrugged.

He scratched the back of his neck. "We're not that kind of friends."

She arched her brow. "Are you saying that there's no way you could like her more than that? She's a very attractive woman."

"It's not that." He facepalmed, now feeling his head throb again.

His mother stares at him worriedly. "Sweetheart, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale." Her mother stood and placed her hand over his forehead.

"I'm okay, mom."

His dad laughs softly and took a sip of his coffee. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it's just a hangover pallor."

His mother caresses his hair. "Yeah, right," she snickered.

He didn't answer.

She faltered. "Wait," she takes a step back as if to assess him, "it is." She lets out a gasp. Not the horrified kind. It even sound delighted.

His parents exchanged looks.

His dad had his coffee halfway from his mouth. He gave him a crooked smile. "Well, I'll be damned."

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