Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,95
a try,” I snap back.
“Petra,” he begins. My gaze meets his again. “Whatever he does or doesn’t do, I don’t want you to stop eating because of him.” I wasn’t excepting him to say that. Or for him to sound so worried. I break eye contact in shame at what I’ve done to myself. Self-harm is one of my many demons. Why am I even like this? It’s a mystery I can’t even solve myself.
“I have been eating,” I remind him as a small smile tugs at my lips. “You saw it live yesterday.”
Matthew lowers his head in a failed attempt to hide his growing smirk. “And I’m gonna check again today.” The cheekiness in his tone makes me crack a laugh, and I realize as I do so that we are standing a bit too close to each other. I must admit, the closeness feels odd to me, but not totally unwanted.
His hazel eyes drift down for a second, and before our silence gets too awkward, I say, “Um, should we check out the rest of the exhibit?”
After twenty-five minutes observing and discussing the masterpieces on display, I call Anthony and see if he can pick us up. Fortunately, he accepted and is now on his way. I seriously couldn’t stand to see Matthew with that mask on again. Not sure if it’s because I was in a coma for six months and don’t watch the news or follow anything on social media, but seeing my friend wear it in the car seemed a bit weird to me. Before leaving, though, I don’t forget to say goodbye to Mike and his girlfriend. As my father always says, being polite and acknowledging people goes a long way. Once we get into the car, I ask Matthew, “So, did you enjoy the exhibit? It was quite different from your average art gallery, huh?” Since he’s about to put his mask on again, I tell him, “It’s okay here. You don’t have to put it on.”
But he doesn’t seem convinced and puts it on anyway. I can’t help but frown. It was in his pocket the whole time and now he’s putting it over his mouth?
“Rules are in place for a reason, Petra,” he says.
Rules? What he did is disgusting! But instead I just say, “Okay, but this is not an Uber. It’s a private car.”
“It’s about being respectful to Anthony and you.”
“Anthony is not wearing a mask either,” I press on. “He only drives my dad and me around.”
“The regulations are clear,” he insists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a piece of fabric. I’ve been wearing it for months now. I’m used to it.”
“Alright. As you wish.”
After five more minutes and some small talk about the exhibit, Anthony stops in front of my building to drop me off.
“Well, um, here I am. Thanks for coming,” I tell him, wondering if I should give him a hug, a high five, or something else.
“Thank you for inviting me. It was really nice.”
Since Matthew neither opens his arms for a hug, nor leans over for any type of physical touch, I’m hesitant to do anything. So I just smile at him and say, “Have a great evening.” And I slowly open my door and exit the car. Standing outside, I wave at him until Anthony drives away.
I’m not sure why, but I feel a bit sad at not receiving even a simple hug. Maybe because Emma always hugs me like there is no tomorrow, I don’t know, but affection is something I miss. A friendly hug would’ve been nice. Then I walk back inside, and, as I get into the lift, my thoughts go to Alex. I remember the hugs we used to give to each other all the time. The first one being when I jumped on him at the Martos gallery where I embraced him so tight he gasped. Instinctively grabbing my iPhone, I check my messages again. Disappointment tightens my chest and emptiness sinks into my stomach as I realize he hasn’t seen any of my texts. Why is he ignoring me like this? Why? I can’t believe he hasn’t checked his texts for the past two weeks. Something is definitely off.
“So, how was it?” Janine surprises me as I walk into the hallway.
“Hey, Janine,” I greet back. “It was fine, thank you.”
“Great. Um, your dad is having dinner in the kitchen. I made lasagna. You want some?”