Ridiculous: Mattory

2: Would We Call It a Date?

Mallory

I am going to go mad.

I slam my car door a little harder than I have to and march into the building that holds Studio C. It's just a few scant days into January, the first time I've been here in the new year.

An edge of nervousness creeps into me as I walk through the familiar halls. I haven't seen Matt since Stephen and Whitney's Christmas party, and I've only talked to him a few times since then, and only over text. He'd been away for most of that time, anyway, but he made no mention of the kiss I thought we shared, and part of me was beginning to wonder if I'd dreamed it.

Before I can dwell any further on the subject—not that I hadn't been dwelling on it incessantly since it happened—the man himself falls in step with me. "Hey, Mal," he greets, and I can't help but immediately start analyzing his manner, seeing if he was acting at all different.

"Hi, Matt," I reply, but in my 'analyzing' I only end up reflecting on how unfair it is that Matt could make a burlap sack look sexy, no less the clothing he actually wears. Today's feature includes a gray sweatshirt that hangs open over a brilliantly tight shirt, along with dark jeans and pair of black converse. His brown hair is just a touch mussed and I have the sudden desire to make it even more so.

Calm down, Mallory, I tell myself, trying to hide the fact I'm digging my fingernails into my palms by shoving my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket. I'm attempting to use the pain to distract me from the fact that I would really like to back him against the wall and kiss him senseless right here in the hallway, but it's not working in the slightest.

I had never denied my coworker and friend was a good looking guy—though in more of a skinny and adorable fashion than the fabled tall, dark, and handsome—but where did this sudden, maddening physical attraction to him come from? And when?

Probably when I completely bypassed rational thought and ending up kissing him the other night.

"Got your thinking cap on?" he asks, apparently oblivious to my appreciative side-eyeing and insanely inappropriate fantasies.

I clear my throat, hoping it'll keep my voice from squeaking. "Think so."

"Awesome, because I think we've got the foundations for some really great sketches this year." He holds the door to the writing room open for me and my heart flutters for a moment, before remembering he's always done that. I shuck my jacket and toss it over the nearest empty chair, giving easy greetings to the cast members that were already there.

Brainstorming is disappointingly routine, though exciting in its own way like it always is. I'm not sure if I really thought it would be different between Matt and me, but part of me hoped so. Unsurprisingly, things seem to be the same as always. The hours seem to both crawl and fly by, and before I know it we have a dozen vague sketch ideas and two fully fleshed out ones, and I'm starting to realize that breakfast was a long time ago.

Matt seems to have the same idea I do, and he caps the dry erase marker he's holding, glancing around the room. "What time is it?"

"Twenty of three," Jason says, being the first one to reach his phone.

"Yikes, is it really?" Matt asks. I glance at my own phone, confirming the time. "All right, let's take an hour for belated lunch, and we can come back and hopefully have a few more ideas."

I tug my jacket on and shuffle out with the rest of the cast. I hadn't packed a lunch today, so my meal plans weren't firm, but I'd probably grab something quick in town and eat in the car.