Yours Musically

52. Our Anchor

Chapter Fifty Two - Our Anchor

This one's mine...

The words kept playing in my head over the music in the car. The drive back home was a lot like the drive to the gig—me cutting glances at him and him driving in silence. The only difference was he wasn't at ease this time as I could tell by his clenched jaw and tight grip on the steering.

"Matt," I finally called.

He turned the music volume down like he'd just been waiting for me to say something.

"What?"

I swallowed, building up some courage before demanding, "What you said to Brett back there, what was that?"

His eyes fell on me, and he watched me for a moment, then shifted his gaze back to the road ahead and, without saying anything, cranked the music volume back up.

My jaw dropped as a wave of irritation washed over me. And right then, I was really thankful to have reached home because the second he stopped the car in front of my house, I stomped out and slammed the door shut behind me loudly, flouncing towards my house.

"Rebekah," he called. "I need to talk to you."

"Well, I don't. Not anymore. Too late. Nope," I said over my shoulder.

"I'll be in your room before midnight. Stay up for me."

I scoffed. The audacity.

"I said I don't wanna talk to you. Don't come!"

I stayed up nonetheless.

Not because I was waiting for Matt or anything. But because I was scrolling through Instagram. Anxiously.

A tap on the window made me jump out of my bed, and I almost dropped my phone in the rush to pull the window open.

And there he was, the cranky asshole who appeared to be in a nice mood now as he stared up at me with the same humour I'd found on his face when he'd showed up drunk a night ago.

"I asked you not to come."

"You're really gonna leave me hanging here?" He squished his brows together and pursed his lips, once again trying to be cute. And did it immediately work on me? As pathetic as it was, yes.

I crossed my arms and stepped aside to let him in. He climbed through quickly and shut the window after himself.

"Would it kill you to use the front door?"

"I don't like being announced all the time."

"Don't feel the need to announce yourself when you're leaving either. Oh yeah, you can do that whenever you want because I'm in no mood to talk." With that, I got into bed, pulled the covers on top of me, and turned my back to him.

I heard him sigh.

"I didn't want to talk in the car because I needed to clear my head before I said something."

"Was your head not clear enough when you said I'm yours? Or is your ego too big to see me even talk to some other guy?"

I heard his footsteps getting closer, nearing my bed. "You were about to exchange numbers with him. I said what felt right in that moment."

My eyes widened for a second. With a murderous scowl, I sat up on the bed to face him squarely. "So, you didn't mean that."

"That's not—"

"I don't know what you want anymore, Matt. I tell you how I feel, and you ignore it. You act like you don't want me, and then you tell some other dude I'm yours. We—us—we can't exist only when you're jealous of some guy, okay? Oh wait—my bad. Now you're just gonna deny being jealous and make me look like the idiot—"