Crap.
She looked down the hallway. Did she have enough time to run to the elevators before . . .?
“What the fuck, Iz?” Matt grumbled as he yanked the door open.
He ran his hand across his face, then through his hair, which stood up in all directions. His eyes were bleary, struggling to open properly, and grey jogging pants hung low on his hips. Too low on his hips. And, dear lord, the outline they revealed made her itch to slide them down just a couple of extra inches.
Extra inches.
Of which Matt appeared to have plenty.
“I’m sorry,” she said, focusing on his face. “I just really needed to talk to you.”
Matt stepped back to let her in. “Coffee?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
As Matt made the coffee, she looked around his apartment. It was more pulled together than she expected. Luke’s apartment looked like a university hall of residence. Mismatched furniture. Piles of laundry. A fridge filled with leftover takeout and cartons of orange juice.
Matt’s apartment felt homely. A light grey sofa. Some plants. A rug. Artwork mixed with photographs on the walls. The kitchen, while small, was spotlessly clean and organised. And when Matt pulled the fridge open to grab the milk, she could see it was stocked with fruits and vegetables.
He handed her a cup, his eyes less bleary now. “Lots of milk, right?”
Izabel grinned. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You headed into work?”
Izabel watched his back as he worked. Strong shoulders, narrow waist, more ink than she could take in. It made her . . . testy. Unable to stand still. “Yeah. It’s not been so chaotic this week because the weather’s been nice, but the rain yesterday increased foot traffic. Breaks my heart to see the numbers fluctuate like they do.”
“Why do they fluctuate?”
“Because even though we try to make it feel like a home, it’s still a shelter. And on warm, dry days, when the shelter is less busy, you know someone made the choice to sleeping rough instead of inside.”
“That sucks, but it isn’t your fault.”
“I know, but it bothers me we can’t afford to give them individual rooms with locks to honour their dignity and protect them. And I wish we had the facilities for everyone to shower, and enough laundry capacity for everyone to have their clothes washed overnight.”
“You’ve got a good heart, Iz.”
Izabel shrugged. “Yeah, well, a good heart doesn’t fix shit.”
“Yeah, but with your good heart are actual actions. I thought Luke said you’d gotten an outlet to donate a washing machine and a tumble drier.”
“I did, but it’s only one and isn’t enough to—”
“It’s better than none.”
“True.”
Matt wandered to the sofa and sat with his elbows on his knees, both hands holding his cup. “Does Luke know you’re here?”
Izabel shook her head. “No. Although, I should say this rather prehistoric contract you all entered into when it comes to me is getting really old.”
“He’s just looking out for you. Not sure any guy likes the idea of his little sister hooking up with his mates. It’s more about him than it is about you.”
She took a sip of the coffee. It was strong, just what she needed. And his words just reinforced what she already knew. Matt would never date her because of Luke.
“What do you need, Iz?”
If only she could answer it honestly. She needed those heavily tattooed arms of his wrapped around her like they had been on the tram, she needed his lips to trail a line along her neck. Instead, she sighed, regretting what she was about to say before she’d even said it. “It was really nice of you to stick up for me, but you don’t need to take me to the wedding.”
She’d slept on it. Twice. Flipping back and forth between being noble and letting Matt off the hook, or being selfish for once and making him come with her. But her desires weren’t fair to him.
Matt turned his head slightly and looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “It’s fine, Iz.”
She placed her coffee cup on the small table and wandered over to the window. The streets were coming to life. People on their way to work and dropping kids off somewhere. “No. It’s not. ’Tis a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive, or whatever the quote is. It’s easy enough to smooth this over. I’ll just say I decided to not cause more drama by bringing you with me.”
Matt took a large gulp of coffee, placed his cup on the table, and leaned back, stretching his arm along the top of the sofa. She wouldn’t study the delineation of the muscles or his tattoos. Or the way the lines of his abs looked even more prominent, how they flexed as he moved.
When she saw his face, she glanced back out of the window and bit down on the frustration she felt. He’d looked relieved. Not disappointed. Perhaps a part of her had hoped he’d demand to take her. In the half-awake, half-asleep dream she’d woken to, he’d pulled her to him and kissed her until she accepted he was going with her.
Instead, silence filled the room in the space where she’d hope he’d insist.
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
No, not really.
Izabel sighed. “Yeah. I’m fine with it. I might even try to call Harry, see if I can talk him out of bringing Sophia. Perhaps I’ll even use you as leverage. I’ll say I won’t bring you if he doesn’t bring her . . . for the sake of peace at the wedding.”
“You don’t need to be calling Harry, Iz. Just do you.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Offer. To come. With me, I mean.”
Matt ran both his hands through his hair, then let them flop down onto the sofa. “I suppose I just wanted to get one over on Harry. Call it male pride. The guy’s a dick for how he treated you.”
Damn, his answer hurt. Nothing to do with her. No mention of how good she’d felt in his arms or how he liked spending time with her.
She reached for her cup and chugged the rest of her coffee. She needed to get out of there before she did something stupid like change her mind and beg him to take her. Instead of the relief she thought she’d feel at letting him out of his suggestion, she felt crushed.
“Okay. Well, thanks for looking out for me. I appreciate it regardless.” She attempted to smile. It probably looked stupid and slightly pathetic.
“No worries, Iz. Have a good day at work.”
Izabel walked to his apartment door and opened it. “You too, Matt.”
She stepped into the corridor and let the door click quietly shut behind her.
One day, she would have to let the idea of her and Matt go, but it wasn’t today.
Matt jumped to his feet as soon as he heard the door shut.
Jesus fucking Christ. The look on her face. He’d do just about anything to take the stricken look off it.
Hug it off.
Kiss it off.
Sing it off.
Fuck it off.
He’d try everything until she smiled at him.
Yet, she was the reason he’d had the most awful night’s sleep. Dreams crashing through his brain. Images of them falling into a four-poster bed together. Her still in her bridesmaid dress, him in a dark suit. Images of Luke and Jase beating him halfway to death onstage at their next concert. Luke walking out of the band forever. Izabel looking up at Matt while he fucked her senseless.