Author's Note: This chapter is just a filler and kind of boring. I'm not even sure if I like it so I may change it later. But it's actually gives a lot of clues that you won't find out about till later. Muhuahuaha! The next chapter is going to be interesting. I'm excited just writing it.
“Hey mom, I’m home!” Matt yelled into the house as he kicked off his black converse shoes, only to pick them up and place them neatly underneath the mahogany bench that was seated at the entrance.
“I’m just in the kitchen, lunch will be ready soon!” she hollered in response, her voice carrying through the rooms like a sweet melody over the sound of pots clanging. Motioning for me to follow Matt lightly grabbed my hand and dragged me into the kitchen with him. His mom stood over the stove, stirring a pot of what I assumed to be pasta.
“I brought a friend for lunch. I hope that’s okay,” Matt said to his mother whose back was still facing us.
“You know Greg is always welcome here sweetie,” Matt’s mom replied over her shoulder, tucking a strand of her thick black hair behind a delicate ear with a single diamond piercing. Pivoting in her spot, the beautiful smile on her face temporarily morphed into shock till she quickly composed it, plastering a genuine smile on her face once again. Her eyes crinkled at the sides, making her look tired and worn despite the energy she was exuberating.
“Oh my, you’re definitely not Greg dear. Sorry I’m Matt’s mother, Eliana,” she apologized, wiping her hands on a light blue checkered dish towel that was situated right next to the pot she was stirring. Reaching out for a hug, her warm embrace surprised me but after a second my stiffness melted and I returned the gesture.
“I’m Sara,” I informed Ms. Storm as she returned her attention to cooking, but kept her eyes on us, darting them every so often to her son as if she was communicating some unknown message to him. Glancing up at Matt he looked a little uncomfortable
“I’m making farfalle carbonara. You’re not a vegetarian are you? I haven’t added it yet, I can leave out the bacon if you’d prefer,” Mrs. Storm rushed out, letting out a breezy laugh at the end, probably realizing how doting she was being.
“No, bacon sounds delicious,” I easily assured. I hadn’t had bacon in a long time despite the fact that it was always one of my favourite things to devour for breakfast. It was a combination of the crispiness and the salt that always made my mouth water in anticipation.
“We’re just going to go up to my room till lunch is ready,” Matt blurted out, adding a slight inclination at the end, as if to ask permission from his mother. I doubt she would object to it though because her demeanour just seemed so nurturing and bubbly that it was hard for me to imagine her as strict.
“Just leave your door open!” she called to us as we turned leaving the kitchen the same way we came. The notion was a little ridiculous, I mean sure Matt and I have had sex before (*cough last night), but neither of us would be so brazen as do have sexual intercourse in his house in the middle of the day with his mother cooking away in the kitchen. I always prided myself on being a little edgy and taking risks, but the likelihood of being caught was just too probable for me to chance it.
We approached the creamy beige carpeted staircase that was by the entrance to his house. The walls were lined with family photos, the varying sizes and frames creating a jig-saw appearance that made the house exude an aura of homeliness. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I took my time gazing at all the faces and smiles in the pictures. There were many family photos, there was tiny Matt probably only two years old with another girl who looked one or two years older, her black hair was braided neatly to one side and she had her arm tightly gripping around Matt with cheesy smiles planted on their chubby faces.
Creeping up the stairs at snail speed, the pictures with the older girl who I assumed to be Matt’s cousin disappeared, and the more recent additions to the wall featured a little girl who was clearly Matt’s sister. One picture had her in a bright red jacket at the park with Matt pushing her on swings. The glee was evident in his face as the little girl soared high in the sky, high enough to touch the stars and taste the clouds.
“You’re sister is beautiful,” I muttered under my breath only loud enough for Matt to hear who was a couple steps in front of me. His back stiffened till he turned around and saw the picture I was gazing at and smiled politely in response.
“That picture was taking a couple years ago, she’s gotten a lot bigger since then,” he mused. We both stared at the pictures on the wall once more, neither of us uttering a word till Matt had enough. He sighed and with resolution grabbed my hand once again and dragged me up the stairs so I wouldn’t waste any more time staring at the massive collection of captured moments.
There is nothing on the walls at my house. No moving timeline of events that documented all the happiness and all the laughter that my family once shared. Instead whatever pictorial keepsakes we did bring were still in a brown cardboard box laying forgotten in our rarely used garage. Unless my mother decided to throw them out, I honestly wouldn’t put it past her.
Plodding along on the carpet in the hallway we stopped at a white door on the right side. Without a second thought Matt pushed it open revealing his bedroom in all its glory. There were a couple articles of clothing that were scattered on the navy carpeted ground and a dark green jacket slung over his desk chair. The bright white walls were covered by posters of soccer players and fast cars, nothing that I recognized.
Matt’s bed was leaning against the back wall, tucked into the corner; leaving a fair amount of space in the middle making the room seem spacious. Before I could finish analysing his room, Matt dived onto his queen sized bed messing up his duvet and causing a giggle to slip through my lips. Rolling around like a dog he called for me to join him. Taking a running start I jumped on top of Matt causing him to release a groan as he wrapped his arms around my body pulling me off so we were lying side by side.
“Well isn’t this position interesting?” he teased strengthening his grip on my waist, effectively pulling me closer to his body. Our lips were only inches apart, our breaths already mingling in their close proximity to one another.
“Why yes, it is,” I breathed out, my hands trailing up the side of his body, finding their way to his raven hair. I ran my fingers through his locks, getting lost in the motions and not needing anything else. I don’t know how much time passed but neither of us dared to move; we were both caught in a hypnotic spell that was too tantalizing to disturb.
“We should really get up before someone walks in,” I resigned, lowering my eyes from our intense staring contest. It would be very unfortunate if Matt’s mom walked in and banned me from the house on my first visit. More awkward than unfortunate really. But before I could change my mind, I fisted my hands in Matt’s shirt, pulling his lips to mine in a passionate kiss, swiftly ending the dance our tongues were starting. Rolling over so I had more space, Matt still looked a little dazed and I took my time straightening my shirt and patting down my long hair while he composed himself.
“Why don’t we watch a movie?” I suggested. Movies were safe, sort of. Actually movies were very dangerous; people tend to sit really close together because the screen is small. And obviously someone gets chilly so they climb under the blankets shielding their private areas from prying eyes. The combination of body heat and the protection of the blanket, usually meant some handy work would be going on, if you catch my drift. A movie was just a great excuse to have an innocent explanation of the events if someone walked in.
Conclusion: Movies are NOT innocent.
But this time, when I suggested watching a movie, I really was implying an innocent pastime.
“Movies are so boring,” Matt complained. If I didn’t know any better I would say that there was a definite whining tone to his voice. The image of a cheerleader whining after the quarterback dates the artsy chick popped into my mind. Okay, so if he didn’t want to watch a movie, what other options were there?
“We could wrestle,” I proclaimed, pinning Matt down to the bed into a submissive position. A smirk made its way onto my face.
“You like being on top, don’t you?” Matt taunted, not bothering to fight for dominance despite his situation. Instead of answering him with words, I grabbed both of his hands and pinned them above his head, allowing me to have full access to his neck. Letting go with one hand, I flicked my hair over my shoulder and started trailing kisses down his neck. I could feel the muscles in his body relaxing at my touch, and when my lips reached the base of his neck, I abandoned the kisses and started tickling him.
I was never the best tickler, so it didn’t surprise me when Matt only chuckled at my poor attempt of torturing him instead of due to the tickling fury as I had released on him. Finding my predicament amusing, Matt flipped us over so he was on top and began tickling me. His fingers lightly brushed against my sides, gently increasing pressure till tears of laughter were streaming down my face and I was begging for him to show some mercy and stop.
“KIDS LUNCH!!” Matt’s mom, Eliana, hollered from downstairs. It took a couple moments for us to disentangle our legs, and straighten our shirts. Glancing in his mirror, I patted my smooth hair down ensuring it looked equally presentable as it did when I first entered the house. Rushing down the stairs, Matt flew down two at a time, clearing the bottom of the staircase before I was even half way down.
Three bowls were set at the table and Mrs. Storm was putting the pasta in a giant bowl for the middle of the table. There was also a smaller clear bowl that was filled with creamy Caesar salad with a mountain of croutons on the top. The meal was simple, yet it spoke volumes to the type of family Matt had, the same type of family I was so envious of.
I can’t remember the last time I had a family dinner where we all sat down at the same table at the same time to enjoy a meal.
But thinking back to my last family dinner, it wasn’t as pleasant as the name implied. That night was the same night we stopped being a family.
“Sit, sit,” Matt’s mom insisted, ushering us to the table.
What a sweet woman.