I twirl my phone in my hands, pretending to watch the baseball game on the screen while my mind remains consistent, overthinking.
"Go call him," Veronica demands, sitting down next to me with her third slice of pie.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to seem eager."
"But you are?" she says, rolling her eyes. "Fucking call him. Some other girl will if you don't."
"It's Thanksgiving though and still pretty early."
"So what? You can say you butt-dialed him if he doesn't pick up," she replies, laughing.
"Hey, no boy talk in the den," Dad grumbles distractedly without tearing his eyes from the screen. I look to Veronica who rolls her eyes and gestures to the door.
"Go on."
I smile and stand up, looking for his number in my recents. I shut the door quietly and press call, suddenly nervous.
He picks up on the third ring. It nearly went to voicemail.
"Hello." His voice is warm, thankfully and I realize only now how much I wanted... needed to hear it.
"Hello there," I reply cheerfully, taking a seat on the stairs. "Happy day of thanks." Damn, refrain from jokes, Simone. I hear a soft chuckle on the other line. I press my lips together and shrug to myself. "I thought I'd know what to say when I actually called."
"So, you've been thinking about me?" There's no innuendo or flirtation at all in his tone. He's simply asking the question, which makes me even more nervous. Maybe I should have waited to call.
"More than I'm willing to tell you."
"You've crossed my mind quite a few times today as well, Emma. There's no need to feel embarrassed to say it."
I smile to myself. "How was your day? Eat a lot?"
"No more than usual," he replies nonchalantly and I hear the shutting of a piano. "I'm leaving the studio."
"At this hour?"
"Yes."
"Did you have dinner-?" I don't even realize it. It suddenly occurs to me that he's probably not been with anyone all day. Shit. I feel my heart drop.
"Yeah, ordered some take-out. Worked on the new program."
"Oh." I bite my lip. "I'm sorry, I feel stupid. I would have invited you-"
"No, Emma. I don't do well in family settings. I'm grateful you didn't."
"But today means something. It's the day... to be thankful for the people in your life."
Yep, Emma. Just dig the hole deeper.
I close my eyes, pressing my head to my hand.
"I'm grateful to have met you, then."
My eyes reopen slowly, in shock at his words. I try to open my mouth to say something but can't seem to produce sound. "Uh-"
"Too soon?"
"No. No, not too soon," I whisper gladly, clearing my tight throat. "I'm grateful for you too."
* * * *
"Knock, knock," Veronica announces, opening my childhood bedroom door. Everything's still the same, complete with photos of Leonardo DiCaprio and Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Hey," I murmur, not bothering to move my head from my pillow.
"Went that bad, huh?"
"No and yes, I guess."
"Why?"
"Well, he seems to like me."
"Well, that's good... isn't it?"
"Yes, I just can't get over... you know, he spent today alone?"
"He did?"
"Yeah, he lost his family. He doesn't make friends easily it seems. He is really... damaged. I feel like shit that I didn't invite him."
"You met him like two seconds ago, Em. I'm sure he didn't expect you to invite him."
"Yeah, I know but-"
"But you're used to being a saint. He's lucky to have met you, honestly."
I smile, tucking a strand of golden hair behind my ear as I sit up. "I wish I could help him see the world as a better place... He can be so negative."
"Well, go to him then."
My eyes widen as I look to the clock. "What!? It's literally eight at night."
"That's early."
"To go to him? No, V. That's crazy. Mom has plans with us tomorrow."
"To paper-mache? Come on, you can't honestly be looking forward to that."
"Well, no... but-"
She places a hand on mine. "You like him."
"Yes but-"
"No buts. Go to the man and show him that you want to be there for him."
"He'll think I'm going for sex, V."
"I highly doubt that. You don't fuck around for nothing."
"Danny?"
"Fuck Danny, honestly. I'm sick of hearing mom go on and on about the scumbag who has cast you aside for years. You deserve to feel, everybody deserves to feel like they're wanted. Does Matteo make you feel that?"
I nod, looking down. "I don't know how much he wants but I feel like I'm willing to find out... hope for the best."
"Then get your ass up and get out of here. If you leave within the hour, you may get there by eleven."
I kiss her cheek and stand, bracing myself.
"What will mom and dad say?" I worry aloud, grabbing my still packed suitcase.
"Don't worry about them. I'll handle it." She stands, smiling. "Go get your man."
****
With my rolling suitcase trailing behind me, I grip the bottle of champagne tighter, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. I was doing pretty good until now. I raise my hand, ringing the doorbell nervously.
It's only twelve at night... he's probably not sleeping.
But what if he is?
The door opens, slowly. Matteo holds it open with one hand, in navy sweats and a white t-shirt. He gapes slightly, shaking his head. He doesn't look tired at all- he looks perfect.
"Emma, what are you doing here?"
"I actually don't really know. I kind of just jumped on a plane and stopped at the gas station down the street and-" Stop rambling. "I brought leftovers from my parents? And champagne. I thought... we could have some?"
"You flew here to bring me Thanksgiving dinner? I thought you were staying the week?"
I purse my lips, squinting. "Yeah... It sounds kind of crazy when you say it."
"Because it is crazy. Emma, I-I don't want you to pity me. I am content with how I live."
I breathe in deeply, disbelieving that he could even be content with how he lives, alone and sheltered, pushing away anyone that cares. "I don't want to hear that you're content with take-out and late nights at work on holidays. I just don't, Matteo. That isn't a way to live! You deserve more than that."
"You've known me for what... a couple days? I don't need to conform to your idea of what a holiday should be," he snaps, surprising me completely. "You really did not have to fly out here as if I were some goddamn lowlife that needs saving. You're trying to force something that I'm not fucking ready for."
I stare at him, without words. He's clearly waiting for my reply and when he realizes it's not going to come, his hand slips from the door hinge, his face grimacing as if he'd only just heard what he said.
"Emma, I like you. I do, I just don't think I'm ready... for what I think you're looking for."
As his words sink in, for once, I have absolutely nothing to say. No comeback whatsoever. I realize there is nothing really to say to that. So, silently, I set down the bag of leftovers onto the floor along with the champagne and turn, holding my breath.
"Em," he breathes, apologetically. "Emma."
I click on the elevator button, trying to hold back the tears of complete embarrassment.
I hear his door shut softly and for a moment, I think he's gone inside.
"I'm sorry... Emma. That came out harsher than I wanted it to."
"It came out the way it was supposed to," I whisper, breathless. "I won't come here again."
"Listen..."
"You are such an asshole," I growl, turning back around to face him. "You push me away, you pull me back and the rotation doesn't stop."
He looks down, closing his eyes. "I know."
"Well, why do you do it? Why? I came here to try and be here for you. I wasn't asking for a marriage proposal or even a fucking nightcap. I just wanted to be with you!"
"You're wasting your time, putting this energy into me, Emma."
"Then why stop me from walking into this damn elevator? Just let me fucking go if you're going to rip me apart every time I step over the wall you've built around yourself!"
"I want to, believe me. I want you to go... and I don't. There's apart of me that wants to erase that even met you. And then there's apart of me that wants to forget the man I am now and never let you go. The man that wants to be what you want me to be... but I'm not that. I'll never be normal, Emma."
"No one wants normal, Matteo. I want you and I'm not afraid to say it. I want to laugh with you. I want to sit up talking for hours with you. Hell, I want to make love with you but I won't settle for less than what I deserve. Not when I feel like this."
He stares at me, conflicted. I press down on my lips. "If that isn't what you want, if you do not want to be with me this way, then tell me and I will go right now."
"Of course I want you," he whispers, as if I'm crazy for even thinking differently. "I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."
I leave my bag and walk to him, clasping his face. "Then, why are you fighting this?"
"I don't want to hurt you, Emma," he confesses, staring down at me as if he were a lost two-year-old boy.
"Then don't," I answer, running a hand through his soft hair. "Just kiss me. Just give in to this. Don't think about anything else but me and you. Let your heart decide for once."
His breath is harsh and uneven as he suddenly clutches me tighter. "God, Emma."
Within seconds, my headfalls back at the intensity of his mouth against mine, harsh and full of need.