Getting Over Matt

3 - "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it."

"No, you don't mean it," Sam insisted. "You're only saying it to satisfy me for now. And then you'll blow me off next weekend too." 

"I'm just not so great anymore, Sam," I admitted, trying not to let the pleasure show in my voice. I attempted to lean away from Matt but his hand slid to my back, pulling me closer.  

"How is that a problem? It would be humiliating if you beat me, anyway." 

Matt was now dragging down the neck of my t-shirt, exposing more skin to kiss. As he got dangerously near to my cleavage, I decided it was probably best to end the call with Sam. 

"I've got to go now, Sam," I told him quickly. "See you tomorrow." 

And then I put the phone down as soon as he'd mumbled an unimpressed goodbye in return. Tossing my phone onto the table, I took hold of Matt's face in my hands, locking my eyes onto his.  

"That was very cruel," I told him, trying to remain serious.  

A playful, yet devious smirk played upon his lips. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it." 

We kissed heatedly for two minutes, and just when I was about to contemplate removing clothing, he pulled away. My lips were tingling from where he'd been ferociously kissing them, but Matt didn't seem quite as flustered as I did.  

"So what did he want?" he asked casually, extending his arms above his head to stretch. 

I slid off his lap and resumed my place next to him. I could always tell when Matt was no longer interested in getting hot and heavy, and I wasn't prepared to face another rejection by attempting to carry on with the kissing.  

"He was pestering about that match we were supposed to play this afternoon." 

"Oh, was that today?" he asked, as if he'd genuinely forgotten. He didn't fool me; I knew he'd remembered otherwise he wouldn't have made such a song and dance over Sam talking to me at lunch the other day.  

"Yeah. But I didn't want to play anyway, to be honest."

Matt's arm slid around my shoulder and I snuggled down into him, feeling at ease again as I rested my head on his chest.  

"You used to be good at tennis," he said.  

"Well, I haven't played in a while." 

"You should take it up again. You loved playing." 

"I don't have much time at the moment." 

"Do you remember when we had that tennis match in the summer?" Matt asked, laughing to himself as he recalled the memory. "You were such a sore loser!" 

"I was not a sore loser!" I disputed. "I was just frustrated because I'm a much more skilful player than you, and yet you beat me on pure fitness and dirty tactics!" 

He laughed again. "I don't call standing at the net dirty tactics. It's not my fault you couldn't get the ball past me." 

"Well, whatever. You know I'm actually much better than you." 

"If you say so," he teased, but he kissed my forehead softly to show he was only messing around. "We should play together again sometime soon, though. It'd be a shame to waste your potential." 

The conversation came naturally, without any effort to keep it going. Being with Matt in general felt natural and right. We'd been friends for seven years and gradually grown closer. At one point, I'd even considered him my best friend, and I think that was maybe the point that the lines between platonic feelings and romantic feelings became blurred. We talked constantly, about anything. We spent every minute at school together, and then we'd text for hours into the night. It was almost ironic that now we were actually in a relationship, Matt didn't seem keen to spend so much time talking to me at school.