Page 54 of Come Back to Bed
13
Bernadette
After that somewhat awkward transitional period, Matt McGovern and I have eased into the perfect neighbors with benefits arrangement and I am determined to enjoy every no-strings kiss and beneficial thrust while it lasts. We’ve had a week of nightly sex, and one more intense make-out session in the laundry room. I’ve even started separating my lights and darks so I can spend more time hanging out in the basement with him—and I left my phone upstairs so we wouldn’t get interrupted.
Get pounded by ridiculously hot neighbor while doing laundry all morningis now at the top of my Will Do list for this Saturday.
If there were a security camera in the hallway outside our apartments, someone could edit together a pretty fun montage. I come home from work, shut my front door, open the door again and then enter the neighboring apartment. Then I come out again with a blissed-out smile on my face and my hair all messed up. Matt knocks on my door, I open it and grab him by the shirt collar to pull him inside. He walks back out the door with his shirt unbuttoned and my lipstick all over his face. With some upbeat Nineties tune playing, to signify to everyone that this is not serious.
We tease each other and chat, and I have absolutely no idea if he’s looking at other apartments or when Dolly will be coming home, but it actually feels like we’re doing this right. It’s fun. We’re respecting boundaries. Nobody’s asking where this is going or trying to share their feelings. But…orgasms orgasms tra-la-la-laaaaaahhhh orgasms!
It’s still new, so we seem to be going for the gold every time, but I find it difficult to imagine that sex with Matt could ever get boring. He’s so generous and passionate and responsive. So different from what he’s like the rest of the time.
I get home from work relatively early on Friday, at around five-thirty. Sebastian has been fairly complacent and undemanding this past week, it seems, or it may just be that I’m not as keyed into his every mood and whim as I used to. My plan is to give my vagina a rest tonight, in preparation for laundry day—my fingers are itching to do some sketching—and there’s a new Netflix series I want to plow through. To be honest, I also need to prove to myself that I’m still capable of getting through one night alone, without a particular person’s penis inside of me.
As I reach my building, I find an Uber car double-parked out front. I recognize the guy who’s holding his hand out to someone in the backseat—it’s Lloyd the protégé. He’s holding a pair of crutches in one hand and helping Matt out of the car with the other. Seeing that man accept help from another human does strange things to my heart. The tip of my nose starts tingling. When I see that he’s wearing sweatpants and an ankle brace on his left leg, I get that same feeling I had after I witnessed him with Vanessa and her new boyfriend. I just want to make him feel better.
Matt doesn’t lean against Lloyd for long. He takes the crutches, and the closer I get, the more obvious it is that he has the sweet hazy demeanor of someone who’s stoned on painkillers.
“Hi there.” I try to sound casual and not overly concerned. “What happened to you?”
“Youhappened,” Matt grumbles, with just a hint of a smile on his lips. He is bleary-eyed and his face looks so different without the usual tension in his jaw. His features are slightly less defined, and much less intimidating.
“Really?Idid this to you? Seriously, what happened?”
“I have to get Daisy from daycare,” he drawls, to no one in particular.
Lloyd scratches his head and checks his phone. “I can go pick her up, I guess.”
“No I can get her,” I say. “Hi, I’m Bernadette. I live next door to Matt. Lloyd, right?”
“Yeah hi, hey, I’m Lloyd, yeah. Hi.” Lloyd reaches out and I shake his hand, while Matt dreamily stares around at the air in front of him.
“What happened?” I ask Lloyd. “Is he on painkillers?”
“Yeah, the doctor said he should only need over-the-counter, but one of the other lawyers gave him a Percocet before we left the office just now. He sprained his ankle playing basketball at lunch. I took him to a clinic. It’s a grade one sprain, but the doctor said he’d heal faster if he stays off that foot for a few days.”
“I’m fine,” Matt declares, as he heads for the door to the wrong building.
“Hey!” I whistle. “Over here, champ.” I wave at him, jerk my head towards our building.
He adjusts the direction he’s heading in, as if he was just taking the scenic route. Even on crutches, he moves with grace and confidence. It almost makes me want to trip him.
“So, Lloyd,” I say, as I open the front door to the foyer. “I hear you’re into raves and house music and all that stuff.”
He laughs. “What?! That’s hilarious. Where’d you hear that?”
I narrow my eyes at Matt, who is oblivious.
“Guess I’m thinking of someone else.”
We look up at the stairs.
Lloyd groans. “What floor is he on?”
“Fourth.”
“I can go up myself,” Matt insists. “I can hop on one leg.”
