Page 66 of My Undead Heart
“Ahhh ...” The smirk on my face grows with his passionate explanation.
“Ahhhwhat?”
“Underdog.” I nod, knowing I’m right. I’ve got him pegged, at least when it comes to this. “You always root for the underdog. Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.” He stares but I lift my brow at him and he relents. He tosses his empty bottle on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. I do. Hell, I was the underdog. Still am.”
“I think for once we’ve actually found something we agree on.” I smile, lean my back against the opposite counter, and tip back my beer. The cold ale tastes a whole lot like the small victory of seeing Matt Haywood rattled.
He shakes his head. “Are you sure? Because I watched the news this morning and hell was most certainlynotfreezing over.”
“Funny, big guy.” I set my bottle next to the other empties. I dread going back to the party of meaningless small talk and rude women, but I know we have to. It’s not that I can’t be social and friendly with strangers, it’s just that I find it tiresome and exhausting. More so a challenge when I find nothing in common. Matt’s brother Danny has been nothing but nice and maybe I’d be more excited to re-join the party if his girlfriend were as well.
Matt clears his throat and I glance up to find him staring. He opens his mouth to say something so I wait patiently until he does. “How about we ditch this joint and go watch a movie or something?”
A smile stretches across my face and his follows at my answer. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Matt’s bike takes us to an apartment not far from his gym. It’s not even on the way to my place, which means for weeks he’s been going entirely out of his way to drop me back home after training. I don’t mention it because I don’t want to know the meaning behind it. Instead, I follow him up the outside staircase and along the walkway to his place.
“It’s simple, but it’s home. For now.” Matt unlocks the door and steps inside first to flip on the lights. I’m not sure what I expect, but probably not this. He wasn’t kidding when he said simple. The place is small, but hell, I know how much rent runs in this city, so lots of places are. What gets me are the blank white walls. There’s nothing but one older television on a black stand and a leather couch that looks as if it came straight from the early eighties. That’s it. Even the kitchen counter doesn’t hold much but a few canisters of protein powers and a blender.
“Have a seat on the couch. Remote’s on the cushion,” he says, kicking off his shoes and locking the door behind me.
“What do you want to watch?” I say and unzip my boots to leave them by the door. Not sure if that’s the proper protocol, but considering the carpet looks practically brand new, I go with it.
“You pick,” he offers, but when he catches the evil glint in my eye he recants. “Wait. No. Let’s just scroll through until we find something we both like.”
“Ugh. No fun, Haywood. Where’s your sense of adventure?” I tease, and eye the couch for a place to relax. There’s a serious concern the fabric will completely split when I sit on it. A few seams are already held together by duct tape so it’s entirely possible.
Matt laughs and walks around to the other side, and digs under one of the cushions before retrieving the remote to power on the TV. “I store it with my self-preservation. Right behind my fight or flight. Sit. Scroll. I’ll grab us drinks. What do you want? Water, pop, wine?” He hands me the controller and backs up with an expectant grin.
“Wine.” I sink into the cushion of his couch and resist the moan that threatens to leave my lips when my back hits the padded leather.
“Best couch ever, right?” His brows waggle.
“It’s okay,” I lie and his laughter carries as he steps into the kitchen. It continues from behind the refrigerator door. This is the most comfortable piece of furniture my ass has ever felt. If it were mine, I’d never use my bed. Hell, I’d move it inside my room so no one else could experience the luxury. With my finger on the remote I open the Netflix app and thumb through to locate acceptable options.
Matt comes back in, two glasses in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other and a bag of chips cradled in the crook of his arm.
“Snacks, too. You so fancy.” I snag the chip bag and pop it open.
“I treat you right.” He winks before pouring my glass.
“Okay, I’ve got it narrowed down ...” The cursor lights upSanta Clarita Diet.
“Nope.” He says popping the P.
Okay, then. I click over a few more until I findWarm Bodies. “How about—”
“Nope.” He’s already rejected it, so I hover on two more of my all-time favorite zombie films. “Nope. Nope.”
“You’re being difficult, Haywood.” I shake my head, almost frustrated enough to hand over the remote, but I won’t. God knows he’d corner me into watching one of the Rocky movies. I pause my surfing a moment to drink.
Matt chuckles. “Your shows suck, Mia.”
I grumble to myself and head toward something that might be considered middle ground, not sure what that would even look like. He turns his nose up at every option I like. “This is impossible.”
“Wait.” He stops me from flipping pastGame of Thrones.
