The idea of escaping this car and Alex’s careless company is irresistible. Fuck Alex, and fuck going back to his condo to sit like a caged bird, Maria clucking over me every few hours.
“Can you drop me at the library?” I ask him.
“Sure,” he says without inflection. The only evidence of his feelings is the whiteness of his knuckles clenched on the steering wheel. He doesn’t even try to invite me for dinner or anything. What a fucking asshole…
Alex pulls over in front of the library, not even bothering to look at me. “Don’t forget we have a board meeting on Monday,” he says, his voice clipped.
“I know,” I bite back. “Bye.”
I rush into the library, squinting my eyes at the change from the harsh daylight to the soft buttery light of the interior. I scan through the tables spread across the vast room, and head through the stacks to the haven of the chess corner and the only man who seems to care about me anymore, Matt.
I don’t remember it being so far, but before I realize it, I am trotting, weird looks flashing past me as I do so until I reach the end of the shelves and the open area where tables are set up for studying. Again, there is no one there, except for Matt, sitting at the chess table under the window, exactly like last time.
He looks up in surprise at my dramatic entrance, and he stands. I quickly close the distance between us and throw myself onto him. He catches me with a surprised “Oomph!” and I squeeze him tightly, the familiar smell of his cologne unwinding the tension around my breaking heart.
My husband dropped me off on the sidewalk like yesterday’s news. Fortunately, Matt is here holding me in his arms as I shove all the emotions from the appointment and my scant few hours with Alex down, locking them in a box deep inside me with all the other terrible things that have happened to me lately.
For a wild second, I think about breaking down and sobbing, knowing he will comfort me. But that isn’t fair to Matt, who I know still harbors feelings for me. Instead, I put the pieces of myself back together as he hugs me, taking solace in the touch of another human.
I pull away first, and Matt looks down at me. His expression is filled with worry, mixed with heartbreaking affection. He’s frowning, the corners of his mouth pulling down. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, I think desperately, but it’s no use.
“How was the appointment?”
“Good,” I lie, displaying a polite smile as I try to play off the show of emotion that just happened between the two of us. I refuse to get into the details of the appointment. It was the same news that I told him at the Indian restaurant, anyway. Bizarrely, the part that has me most upset is Alex and his attitude toward me.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, let’s play,” I say, wanting to close the subject once and for all.
He agrees, but pauses, pulling a small brown paper bag out of the backpack he had brought. “I picked this up for you at the coffee shop. I know you can’t have caffeine, but the barista couldn’t stop raving about these.”
I take the bag and open it. Inside is a brownie. It’s dense, moist, and has a swirl of salted caramel on the top. Remembering Alex’s empty hands when he came to pick me up today, I have to fight back tears. I sniffle briefly, clutching the bag close to my heart.
“Oh, thank you,” I say, my voice watery.
“It’s nothing, really,” he replies before sitting down in front of the black pieces. “Go ahead, I know you want the white ones.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness regarding the brownie, my preferred chess color, and just… me in general, I lean down and give him a quick peck on the cheek before taking my own seat. Matt blushes scarlet, patiently waiting as I move my first piece.
“By the way, I love your skirt, it’s really nice.”
My smile keeps growing at his compliment; at least he noticed the effort I had made today. “Oh, you do? Maria and I went to buy some new clothes.”
“It looks great on you.”
Well, at least the outfit is flattering and hides my emerging bump quite well. Not that I mind, but there’s no need for the media to know about my personal life.
After our game of chess, Matt and I don’t feel like going home. This little corner of the library is just too amazing to leave. Since he decides to study for ethics, I also decide to take a copy of the book I’m currently reading out of a shelf. That’s the great thing about this library; they have a copy of nearly every book in the market. We sit beside each other and as soon as I open my book, Matt asks, “What are you reading?”
“Um, it’s a book my dad recommended to me,” I say. And then I show him the cover, knowing he’s gonna hate it simply by the title.
“The Virtuous Egoist by Tara Smith?” A laugh escapes me at his grimace. “Really?”
“Well, he said it was good, so I’m reading it,” I tell him.
“How do you find it so far?”
“I like it,” I disclose and my smile keeps growing seeing him even more shocked than before. After all this is a book that advocates for objectivism—Ayn Rand’s philosophy—and one of his biggest pet peeves. “Her philosophical views are interesting,” I add to provoke him. “Similar to Rand’s.”
Matt shakes his head like he’s extremely disappointed in my poor philosophical and literature choice, but I’m just reveling in his overly dramatic expression.
“I really need to know something…” He’s got that cute little smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his hazel eyes.
“What?” I ask, quite amused, staring at him as he thinks something through.
“How can someone so beautiful can have such a poor taste in philosophy?”
I laugh under my breath at his stupid question, but I play along. “I guess taste is a matter of subjectivity,” I say, my voice low and soft. To my surprise, my heart starts thundering because Matt is leaning in, and he’s getting close, very close to my lips. “Like the fact you think I’m beautiful,” I add, trying to conceal my growing nervousness. “It’s also subjective.”
Matt observes me attentively. “Mm, I’m sure there are objective parameters that I could use.”
Containing another laugh, my lips part slightly at his humor, and I feel the heat rising on my cheeks. “Such as?”
I swallow when his eyes travel to my mouth, his head dipping down just inches away from closing the distance. “Proportions, symmetry…” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and in the heat of the moment, slowly closes the small gap between us, pressing his lips on mine. He doesn’t rush, but also doesn’t vacillate. And, for a split second, I forget everything, letting myself revel in his tenderness and touch. Fortunately, consciousness hits us right back, and we pull our lips immediately apart.
“Oh my gosh,” I utter in shock at what we just did.
“I—I’m… so sorry,” Matt mumbles, unsure what else to say or do. Yet, I keep looking at him, totally speechless, livid, and numb at what happened. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I ponder his words, replaying exactly what happened and how. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one to blame. Having someone who cherishes you feels good, and maybe there was a part of me that wanted to know what it felt like being kissed by him. “I think we are both guilty.” My eyes meet his again but all I can feel is a huge weight of shame and guilt, so I rise from my chair and add, “I should get going, um, it’s getting late,” I find myself saying, which is not even true but it’s better for me to go.