Hands to Myself ➰ M.D| ✓

Indonesia

Matthew couldn't remember which number beer he was on. He couldn't remember how many shots had been handed to him. He couldn't remember what time it was. He was pretty sure he wouldn't remember much tomorrow. Fortunately, the schedule had been set so he didn't shoot any scenes tomorrow. They figured he'd need a recovery day after their big second season celebration. At this rate, they weren't wrong.

He sat on a stool at a tall table watching his cast mates hover around a pool table. It was a good spot. He could watch the action. And he could watch the door, just in case Cam came back out. She had walked in ten minutes ago, and she was about to go over and chat with him. She had put on a speckled grey top and a sleek pair of black jeans, and she wore a pair of boots with a small heel, making her look just a little bit taller then she usually was. But she didn't make it ten feet into the bar before her phone rang, and she went outside to take it.

She was so cute. There was something so endearing in knowing that she'd gotten upset from just watching him pretend to be battered and broken. It told him a lot about who she was.

They'd been growing closer since that day he caught her snapping photos in the costume room. They got to know each other. It wasn't easy. Neither one of them were the completely open book sort of personality. She guarded her walls well and each time he climbed over one, the next one was harder and higher than the last. Good thing he loved a challenge. The payoff from each obstacle was better than the last.

He could tell that she didn't want to tell him what was wrong with her earlier. He'd had to nudge, coax, and cajole her into letting him in. Yes, he'd laughed at her when she finally gave in to him. She was adorable. He'd figured out that she didn't like looking anything less than invincible. The fact that she'd let him get that close to her made him feel pretty damn invincible himself. The result was a kiss so hot that he was surprised the room didn't catch fire around them. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach just thinking about the way she held onto him as though trying to blend all of their molecules into one perfect entity. She'd kissed him like he belonged to her.

He didn't mind.

He looked at the door again, she wasn't there.

Awesome. Fucking awesome.

She had a boyfriend. He knew that before he kissed her. The interrupting phone call had just been an acute reminder of that fact.

What right did he have to be angry about that? Technically, he and Kelly were still together. They may have been on ice and hadn't exchanged more than a few stale texts in the past weeks, but neither one of them had made the move toward officially calling it off. He thought about it everyday lately. But what kind of guy would he be if he ended a two year relationship with just a phone call. Besides, maybe it was just the distance that was causing the strain and they could work it out.

If that was true, he thought to himself, why would Camille be the only thing constantly on his mind?

He wrote a text message to her, "Where are you? Everything okay?"

He started to write "I miss you." He typed it and erased it twice before sending the message without it. No pressure. No expectations. He did miss her smile, though.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Emeraude said lowering herself onto the stool across from him. Katherine sat on the stool to his left. Matthew knew he was a lucky man. Not everybody got paid to stare at such beautiful women everyday.They were complete opposites visually: Emeraude was the dark haired, tough-talking, vixen, hispanic type while Katherine was the strawberry-blonde all-American girl. His very own Veronica and Betty.

"We hear it from a classified source that you got caught in a pretty compromising situation today," Katherine sing-songed. She sipped clear liquid with a lime out of her glass.