Cliché with a player

Chapter 26 - You found my dog

Matt is talking on the phone with his sister for about half an hour now. It's not looking good.

"Are you out of your mind? He is three years older than you!
Nothing needs to happen, you can't be alone with him when I'm not around."

When he hangs up, he starts scrolling on his phone and in a span of five seconds he is talking to someone else.

"You are a jerk, man," it's the first thing he says to the person on the other side.

"How could you do this? She's my sister, she's three years younger, and you're acting like a pervert."

I assume he is talking to Myles. The latter says something and Matt listens carefully, before he tenses all over and says, with such sharpness in his voice, that my toes freeze, "You are going to stay away, man, or I will make you stay away."

When he finally stops with the phone calls, he comes to me and sits down, resting his head on the back of the couch and sighing.

"He is your friend," I say after some time in silence.

"So?"

"You were a little harsh."

When he doesn't respond I add, "Is Myles really so bad?"

He turns his head towards me and intensely watches me. The words seem to leave his mouth with some resistance. "No, but he's too old for her."

I tilt my head, since we both know that's not the real issue here. It's one of them, for sure, but there is something else behind it.

Matt closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. "Myles is...like me. He never had a real girlfriend, only one night stands, he never once looked back at all the girls he practically threw away. We both were like that. I'm not about to let a guy use my sister, because he can't keep it in his pants. I don't know if Iry is just some trophy to him that he needs to get, to have, or if he is serious, but I don't believe it's the second, since he has never been serious about this kind of things. I would know."

He smiles sadly. Matt looks at me like he expects me to be angry or disappointed at him, but in reality I'm quite neutral.

"Matt, as far as I know, you haven't been sleeping around for some time now. You've changed, Myles can too. Let your sister decide what she'll do, she's mature enough. Maybe talk to her about your real concerns, but tell her that you trust her judgment."

He blinks a few times, before bringing me closer to him by the waist and kissing me. "How did I deserve you?"

"You found my dog."

He smiles and kisses me again. It's nice. It doesn't emanate lust, it's not feverish and all about wanting to take clothes off — it's gentle but firm at the same time, more like a thank you or a simple statement. I like you.

The doorbell rings and interrupts us, and Matt moves away a bit with a smile on his face. His eyes are closed.

"I like kissing you," he whispers, so I just have to kiss him again. This one is short, more like a peck on the lips, but I had to do it since he is just so damn cute.

"Dolazim!" Nessa shouts, running down the stairs.

I look her way and see Mom standing in the doorway of the living room. She does not look pleased. I discreetly glance back at Matt but his gaze is focused strictly on the person walking in. Byron. Splendid.

I stand up and walk over my mom, waving Byron and his sister hello. She waves back and he kind of awkwardly flinches his hand.

I follow Mom into the kitchen, where she sits on one of the stools next to the table with a lace tablecloth.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him." That is not a question.

"You did," I say without any kind of emotion showing on my face.

She looks at me the way you look at a lion in zoo — with curiosity and bewilderment that you get to see this beast in the flesh.

"Mom," I start, "Matt is not guaranteed to be like his parents. Or like Dad." I know that's what worries her the most. "I know everyone says that and every single one believes it, but I'm positive he wouldn't intentionally hurt me."

She smiles, tapping the chair next to her and I sit down.

"I know he isn't the definition of his parents and I don't want to tell you who to let in and who not to You can choose for yourself, you have to. I got scared and I tried to cut any connection you could have with...well, this."

She takes my hand in hers and looks me deeply in my eyes. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn't right now. "Promise me one thing?"

I nod so she continues. "Don't defend him if he screws up and don't look for excuses. And talk to me."

"That's two things."

"Oh, shut up!" She playfully cries and hugs me tightly.

"Tell me everything," she pleads, "don't hide things from me."

"You know I will."

Guilt trapped me in its embrace. She always encouraged me to tell her everything, that she will always help me even if I'd screw up really bad. And I did tell her almost everything, but definitely the important stuff. Until now. I haven't told her, yet, what happened that day on the parking lot. It was pure luck and one big fat coincidence that she didn't find out on her own. She was asking me how I felt, if I was okay a lot more regularly. Beside that, there was no sign she suspected anything.

I made Matt swore he won't tell anyone and he gave me one week to gather up the courage to tell my mom, or he was going to tell his.

How do I even form a sentence like this?

I have been on edge for the past week, avoiding contact of any kind with strangers — I even kept an eye out for any shoulder bumps in the hall. I could hardly look at anyone, only with Matt did I feel like nothing ever happened. The teachers watched me with pity, kept asking me how I was and if I need any help, and I kept lying how my mom took care of me. I'm a horrible person.

I need to tell her before the courage my mind has mustered up disappears.

Inhale, exhale.

"Mom, I need to tell you something."

Her worried switch turns on, she straightens up and I sit opposite of her.

"Something happened in school before we left for this trip."

I feel disgusted just saying it. It's awkward, it's uncomfortable and I hate it.

I tell her everything. And it feels good.

I break in the middle and start crying. She comes around the small table and hugs me. She's my rock, my solid thing, my safe harbour. When I finish I can hardly breathe, I'm shaking all over, my eyes are red and my cheeks stained with tears. I rest my head on her chest and her scent relaxes me.

"I wish you would've told me earlier. But nonetheless I'm grateful you even did. That takes a lot of courage."

I doesn't feel like it — it feels like everything is screwed up so bad it can't go back to normal.

"Honey," she moves back a little and cups my cheeks in her hands, "this is not your fault. That's the first thing you need to understand. I know your mind will automatically find all kinds of excuses, I know you'll feel guilty or you'll look in the mirror and resent yourself and then someone else. But, again, it's not your fault, you did the right thing by telling me."

She contemplates my reaction, my eyes, everything. Her hand stays in mine as she sits back down on her chair.

"How did...what happened then?"

"If it wasn't for Matt, I would probably be god knows where."

She freezes for a second, like she finds the thought of Matt helping me unrealistic or unnecessary. Mom sighs and cracks a small smile.

"Then I'm glad he was there."