Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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Cat freezes with her hand on the door handle, her entire body rigid, confirming that it wasn't just something I was imagining.
Don't get me wrong; I am overjoyed that she stopped using that god-awful nickname that makes me sound like a five-year-old. But in my experience, gorgeous women don't just stop doing things because you wished for it really hard. And knowing drunk me, there is an annoyingly good chance that the dumb fuck did something that sober me has to pay for.
I probably wouldn't even have noticed if it wasn't for her correcting herself earlier today. Normally she calls me Matt or Matty interchangeably, but the instant regret in her eyes tipped me off that something had changed. And since she hasn't called me Matty once.
It's not that I want her to start doing it again. I could die a happy man if I never heard her use that emasculating nickname ever again, but if drunk-out-of-his-mind-on-tequila-me said something to her on the matter, I have to do damage control before this situation gets out of hand.
Could he have been idiotic enough to reveal that hearing her say that name is a surefire boner-killer? I wouldn't put it past him, the bastard. Not for the first time, I damn my short-term memory when alcohol is involved.
Cat releases the handle, turning in the seat so slowly that by the time she's facing me, her face is neutral, expression cleared, and if it weren't for the way her nails are digging into her thigh, I'd say she was unaffected.
"What do you mean?" she asks cautiously, her voice only just failing to pass for nonchalant.
"Don't play dumb with me, Kittycat." I project entirely fake confidence into my voice, resting a casual hand on the wheel, pretending like my insides aren't twisting into knots. Whatever she says next has the potential to make me wish I was never born.
If I got anything out of Cat's little rant just now, it's that Chloé will always come first. While she didn't tell her about my apparent anger outburst last week, that's not to say something won't slip one day. And if Chloé were to find out how badly I would like to screw her friend, I would be a dead man.
I doubt there'd be far from 'screw' to 'screw her over' in my sister's head.
"Sorry," Cat blurts, ripping me from my panicked thoughts of Chloé wielding several medieval torture devices.
I blink, my mind refusing to comprehend that one word. "What?"
Cat glances down, fingers toying in her lap, cheeks stained a soft pink. "You told me at the party that you don't want me to use that name, and I didn't mention anything because I was... embarrassed." Her voice breaks on the last word.
I feel completely out of the loop.
"Embarrassed?"
She nods, refusing to make eye contact. "I should have known that a nickname like that was reserved for family. It was stupid of me to think I could call you that."
