Can't Get Enough

Slutty, I Like It

I knocked at Mattheo's dorm bang on 2 o'clock. Just as planned. I decided to ignore and forget the fact I just murdered a boy and cremated his mangled body. All I had to worry about was spending good quality time with my (hopefully) best friend. I prayed that many years of being apart wouldn't dampen our relationship. Or, prevent it from becoming more. I've come to realise that i'm desperate for something more with that brunette boy.

He opened the door with a smirk, eyeing me from head to toe. Once again, his eyes lingered on my chest longer than anywhere else. This was expected as I undid yet another button of my blouse (for no reason in particular).
"Wow, on time I see. Honestly i'm shocked, you always were one to be late to the meetings." He was leaning on the door frame, arms folded. His biceps were on show perfectly around the rolled up sleeves of his shirt. Now, unlike Ethan, his biceps weren't bulging out and were most definitely steroid induced.
No Evelyn, stop thinking about the boy you just mercilessly killed.

"Evelyn, Evie, hey!" He snapped me out of my thoughts before I could think anymore.

Evie. No one ever called me that. If people wanted to nickname me, it was always 'Eve' or 'Eva'. Or most commonly, 'slut', 'whore' or 'Slytherin Princess'.  He must have noticed my expression soften at the nickname because it led him to say, "You like that, Evie?" It really rolled of his tongue nicely.
"Uh yeah, a lot actually. Better than whore," I joked. He chuckled lightly and invited me inside.

Mattheo's room was the same as mine but there were elements that really made it 'Mattheo'. The unmade bed, the untidy school books, the clothes on the floor, and the thing that reminded me of ten-year-old Mattheo most was the pile of romance novels sat on his bedside table.

When we were children, I'd always have a go at him for leaving his reading books everywhere when there was a perfectly good bookshelf in his room.
I guess some things never change.

"Right, 2:05, 56 minutes to study." I say when we are  situated on the floor of Mattheo's floor.
"55 actually. You never were good at maths," he replies nonchalantly, a slight laugh going with it. 
"Yeah, well, your really shit at English!" I reply defensively.
"Oi, that crossed a line. Plus, i'm not as shit as I used to be! Look, i'm reading Romeo and Juliet'! It's a very posh and- what's that word? Means like put toge-"
"Sophisticated." I finish his sentence. I knew what he meant from the very beginning. "That's it! Romeo and Juliet is a very posh and sophisticated book!"
"Uh, yeah. For 10 year olds."
"No! The age rating is 16! I'm only a year behind!"
"Okay, Mattheo. You win, now, let's actually study."
"HAHAHA, in your face! I win, I win, I win" he chanted.

We actually ended up studying for the rest of the hour we were skiving. Much as the first 10 minutes bickering, it was a lot of playful banter between him and I. None the less, we got a lot of the potion done.

"Alright, time." Mattheo exclaimed as the bell rang for 3, indicating that classes were over for the day. I don't know why, but I've always been... funny with time. I always had been. And yet, I was always late. I always subconsciously made schedules in my head and would get extremely frustrated when we other people messed it up. Mattheo never messed it up. He always understood that time was time with me. Not 'five more minutes' or 'i'm bored let's just finish now'. Always the time I set. However, he always made fun of me for it.

"Right, we need to get ready for the party. I plan on taking you up on your offer. So, go start getting ready in your room and i'll come to watch once i've finished, Angel."  Angel. Another new nickname. I love it. I might have to change my name. Never mind, that's a nickname reserved for him and him only.
"I didn't offer if i'm remembering rightly. I think you just told me." I joked.
"Same difference." he replied smugly.