Page 35 of Fall Into You
Jesus.
I exhale and run my fingers through my hair. “I wasn’tcozywith her, for fuck’s sake! I pushed her away. Did she go home?” Please don’t tell me she went home with another guy. I’ll lose my damn mind.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You like her?”
“Yes!” I groan. “Please just tell me whether she went home or not. I need to see her.”
She takes a beat and sways a little. Slapping me on the back, she says, “Go forth and find her, my son. She is woman. You are man.”
“Huh?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes at me and smacks me on the arm. “‘You are Woman, I am Man’? Fanny and Nicky!Funny Girl?” She exhales. “Just go find your woman—she went home.”
“Thank you!” I say, turning quickly.
“But don’t be a Nicky!” I hear her call out to me.
I tell her I have no idea what that means but that I promise to be good to Liza before I then run out Barbara’s front door and into the New York City night.
IHUFFas I push open my apartment door and double-lock it behind me, adding the chain. I’m so happy to be home. I just had to get out of that party. As soon as I saw Kelly’s hand on Matt, I knew that I was about to lose it, so I thought it would be best for me to leave in order to avoid a scene.
I cannot believe how dumb I was. I cannot believe that I actually thought that Matt was different, but I guess my brother was right all along.
To be clear, I’m not necessarily mad because he slept with someone else, because everyone has a past, and it wouldn’t be fair to hold it against him. I’m mad because ofwhohe slept with, and I’m especially mad because I caught them being a little too friendly with each other when I came back from the bathroom. And I justknowKelly. I know her reputation for being a man-eater, for breaking up relationships, for being an absolute bully with no regard whatsoever for anyone else’s feelings.
She’s the worst type of person.
And Matt slept with her.
Which means he’s into those types of girls, the kind that loves to hurt other women just to prove that they can, to prove that they’re somehow better than everyone else.
Honestly, I was ready to get over the initial shock of finding out that they were a thing and that she was the one who kicked him out of her house, but then I saw them together, and it just triggered something in me. It took me back to my high school days when she would start mean rumors about me, make fun of me in front of my boyfriend, and then ultimately hook up with him at a party while in my direct line of sight. I don’t know what I ever did to her, but she targeted me in school and made my life a living hell up until graduation.
When I showed up to my brother’s apartment in New York after I had broken up with my then boyfriend (the first time I met Matt), it was because he had publicly cheated on me with Kelly. I caught them at the back of a party, where my ex had her pressed against a tree, and they were mauling each other. He was an ass for cheating on me, of course, but what she did was equally as bad, because it wasn’t like she was some random girl he met who didn’t know I existed. Nope. Sheknewhe was my boyfriend and went for him just to hurt me. And I know it was a deliberate thing, because she made eye contact with me while he kissed her neck, and she smiled victoriously.
Shesmiled.
She’s pure evil, and I can’t process how anyone would ever want to be with someone like that. I mean, what does that say about me if Matt liked us both? I’m not sure I feel so comfortable with that idea either—it irks me. Does it put me on her same level? Do we have similar personalities? I wouldneverknowingly hook up with someone in a relationship, so we definitely don’t have that in common, and I really doubt that we’re similar in any other regard.
I kick my shoes off by the bed and undress, pulling on some leggings and a tank top. I brush my hair, my Carrie Bradshaw curls disappearing with each stroke, and wash my face, making sure I remove all traces of makeup. Yes, I’m definitely one of those girls whohasto wash her face and do her entire skincare routine before going to bed—don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me. I’m just about ready to put on my first night cream when there’s a knock on the door.
I grab my phone from my purse and dial 911 but don’t press send.
Hey, don’t make fun of me for being paranoid. I’m a single woman living in New York. I need to be careful.
I walk over to the door and peek through the peephole.
Matt.
“What are you doing here?” I ask through the door. “Also, how did you even get into the building?”
“One of your neighbors let me in. Can you please open the door?” It’s in the form of a question but not really a request. He practically barks the order at me. Matt does not sound happyat all—angry is more like it.
Why does he get to be mad? I’m the only one who gets to be angry here! I’m the one who saw him being felt up by another woman while he was on a date with me. I’m the one whose date got real chummy with her childhood bully. Honestly, I was planning on completely ghosting him after tonight, but I may as well take advantage of the fact that he showed up here, while I’m still seething in anger, and really let him have it.
So, I unlock the top and bottom locks, slide off the chain, and swing the door open to see him standing there, glaring at me, looking glorious. I open my mouth to start to say something, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but he cuts me off before I can even open my mouth to get a word in.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. It comes out with such authority that I feel it all the way down to my toes. Matt’s hair looks sexy and disheveled, like he’s been running his fingers through it all the way here, his mafia-boss hat forgotten at the party. “No way. You’re gonna let me talk first.”
