Crazy in Love (Matt & Anna Book 1)

by Annabelle Costa

  Matt’s friendship has meant more to me than I thought it would. I had worried that the two of us wouldn’t find anything to talk about during our daily lunches, but somehow, we always find something to talk about. Sometimes the two of us have so much to say that we’re tripping on our words. I’ve never had that experience with another person, even Sophia or the friends that preceded her. Maybe because he’s a programmer like I am.

  I know this has been a difficult year for Matt. He’s gone from walking with his cane to now using crutches with metal rings that encircle both his forearms. He uses braces on both his legs from his hips to his feet. I can tell that every step has become a struggle for him. And for this, I blame myself—I’ve still not been able to say my prayer for him 121 times perfectly.

  Of course, I recognize that my feelings for Matt now go beyond friendship, and that’s something new for me as well. There were times when I’ve felt fleeting interest in persons of the opposite sex, but any thoughts of being touched or kissed immediately filled me with anxiety and disgust. Somehow, that’s not true of Matt. I think about him all the time—he’s my first thought when I wake in the morning and my last thought before I go to sleep at night. I fantasize about lying in his arms, his lips on mine, his body pressed against mine.

  Although in reality, I still fear his touch. The few times he has brushed against me inadvertently, my heart started to pound and I leapt away. The thought of him actually kissing me makes me dizzy with fear.

  I treasure our lunches together every day. And every evening that he works, he waits with me until everyone else leaves and takes the elevator downstairs with me. I don’t mind being in the elevator with him, even though we’re breathing the same air. And ever since he started walking me downstairs, I haven’t gotten worried about hitting someone in the parking garage because he watches me pull out of my spot.

  If everything between me and Matt stayed the same forever, I’d be satisfied. But I wonder if he feels the same way.

  I’m not entirely naïve. I understand that men have needs. I know that the fact that Matt spends so much of his time with me indicates that his feelings for me may stretch beyond friendship. I’ve heard people at the office giggling about “Matt’s crush on Crazy Anna” and ribbing him about it. So I suspect that at some point, he may expect to take our relationship to a different level.

  And as much as part of me wants that, I’m scared I might not be able to give it to him. Once he realizes that, he may decide to move on. The same way Sophia moved on when I couldn’t be the fun card-playing friend she wanted.

  Today is Friday and I notice at a quarter past five that Matt seems to be packing up the papers in his cubicle. That’s generally a sign that he’s leaving. Usually he waits with me past six on the days he’s here, but today he’s leaving early. I watch him lace his forearms through his crutches and pull himself into a standing position, something that has clearly become a lot more difficult for him recently. This is a sure sign he’s leaving. He would never go through the effort of getting to his feet unless he was on his way out.

  “Matt,” I say.

  He stops. I see the way his knuckles turn white as they grip the handles of his crutches. He hates those crutches—he’s told me that more than once, but he didn’t have to. I see it in his eyes.

  “Hey, Anna.” He sounds guilty.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Um.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah. Sort of.”

  There’s no rule or agreement that Matt must wait for me every day after work. He’s never promised to do so. But the fact that he’s slipping out without telling me makes me feel oddly betrayed.

  “It’s just…” Matt bites his lip. “The guys invited me…”

  He nods in the direction of the elevators. I can see through the glass doors separating the office from the hallway that Calvin Fitzgerald is standing next to Joe Ricci. I thought I disliked Calvin, but when Joe Ricci joined our company, I discovered an entire new level of distaste. Joe is a greasy-haired, chauvinist pig to the hundredth degree. And moreover, I’m absolutely convinced that Joe has been doing things to tamper with my workstation in my absence. I reported him once to Peter Glassman, who just rolled his eyes at me and said, “Moving a pencil across your desk isn’t a crime.”

  The two of them seem to notice me talking to Matt. Joe nudges Calvin, and the two of them laugh. I look away.

  “You really want to hang out with those two?” I blurt out.

  Matt glances over at them and sighs. “No,” he admits. “Not really.”

  “So stay here,” I say. With me.

  He hangs his head. “I told them I’d come, so… look, it’s just one time. For old time’s sake…”

  “Oh,” I mumble.

  He shifts his weight on his crutches. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go.”

  I’m touched by his offer. I’ve been abandoned by friends on so many occasions because I wasn’t the “fun” choice. I know Matt is excited to go to the bar with Calvin and Joe—I can’t blame him for that. And I can’t blame him for wanting to search for some other girl to give him what I can’t. I’m not, after all, his girlfriend.

  “No,” I say. “It’s your decision.”

  Matt seems oddly disappointed by my response. I thought he’d be happy that I was giving him permission to go out and have a good time. But his voice becomes more subdued. “I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

  I nod and watch him limp off in the direction of his friends. I wonder if he’ll find a girl tonight. I don’t think he’s been on a date in a long time, and I’m sure he’s been longing for something like that. He’s attractive, even with the crutches.

  Jealousy is a new emotion for me. It stabs me like an icepick in the chest as I watch Matt walk away.

  Chapter 44: Matt

  Well, Anna Flint sure lays out one hell of a guilt trip.

  The look on her face when I told her that I was going out with Joe and Cal… she looked so goddamn hurt. I know I’ve been staying late to walk her downstairs every night, so this blindsided her. And even though it sucks to have to hang around work so late, getting to be alone with her as we go downstairs in the elevator has become the best part of my day.

  Sometimes the urge to grab her hand is overwhelming. But I’m not an idiot. I know that wouldn’t go over well.

  As I walk toward Joe and Calvin at the elevators, I feel a pang of regret. I should have stayed with Anna—the truth is, I badly wanted her to order me to stay. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with these guys. Do I seriously think I’m going to be able to go to a bar and hit on girls? It seems ridiculous.

  As I get closer, the two of them stop talking abruptly. Joe stares at me blatantly, which isn’t entirely unusual these days. I don’t know the guy very well—he started working here just when I was getting worse, and we never connected. He doesn’t talk to me much, and it’s mutual.

  “Hey, Matt!” Cal says, raising his hand in greeting.

  “Hey,” I say.

  Joe smiles thinly. “It’s so great you could make it out with us tonight, Matt.”

  My right foot snags against the carpeting slightly and I grip my crutches tighter to keep my balance. Fucking right leg. The last thing I want right now is for Cal and Joe to pick my sorry ass off the floor.

  “Hey, Matt,” Joe says, “it turns out the elevator is broken and we need to take the stairs. That okay with you?”

  It takes me a second to realize that he’s messing with me. I know I should laugh when he does, but it’s hard. Maybe if I’d been on these crutches for years, it would be easier to laugh at myself.

  When we walk down the block to get to the bar, I can’t help but feel jealous of Calvin and Joe. It’s so easy for them to walk. They’re not even thinking about it. They’re not carefully watching for any cracks or indentations in the sidewalk that might send them flying. They’re not expending massive amounts of energy to get their feet to clear the ground. The only thought they’re givin
g to it is having to slow down so I can keep up. I can tell Joe is annoyed with me that I’m taking so long.

  Calvin holds the door for me at the bar. We get a table near the entrance, even though I know Cal likes to sit in the back so he can check out all the girls. As I slide into my chair, I stash my crutches under the table.

  There. Now I look almost normal.

  “Shit.” Joe looks around. “All the girls here tonight are complete dogs. What the fuck?”

  “It’s still early, man,” Calvin says.

  I don’t know what to say. The girls here are gorgeous. I would gladly have sex with any woman here tonight. Shit, I’m getting to the point where I’d literally have sex with a dog.

  “So, Matt,” Joe says as he leans across the table. He’s got a smirk on his face that makes me want to punch him. “Would your girlfriend be upset if you hooked up tonight?”

  I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know.” Joe grins at me. “The can lady.”

  He means Anna, I’m assuming. I really, really want to hit him right now.

  “Don’t call her that,” I say through my teeth.

  I look at Calvin, who chimes in half-heartedly, “Yeah.”

  Joe shrugs. “Why not? You call her that, Cal.”

  Calvin shoots Joe a look.

  “I mean,” Joe continues, “what the fuck is up with all those cans? Does she think the apocalypse is coming? And do you see her go around with that can of Lysol?”

  “She likes Lysol,” I manage. My right hand is balled up in a fist.

  “You know what we did one day?” Joe nudges Calvin. “We snuck into her cubicle and put a drop of coffee on her desk every time she got up. When she saw it, she’d have to wipe down her cubicle with Lysol for like half an hour. It was fucking hilarious!”

  I suck in a breath. I remember that day. Anna was nearly in tears.

  I look over at Calvin, who at least seems embarrassed. “That was a shitty thing to do,” I say.

  “Whatever.” Joe waves his hand. “This is just Crazy Anna we’re talking about.”

  I don’t know what I would have done or said, but the waitress comes over at that moment to take our drink orders, and by the time we’re done, Calvin has swiftly changed the topic of conversation. Before long, he and Joe are ranking every girl sitting in the bar.

  Okay, I’m doing it too.

  And you know what? Fuck you—it’s fun. It’s fun to look at these random women and completely objectify them. It’s fun to drink and laugh with Cal and Joe and not think about my legs for a change.

  Although if someone gave me a choice between this and an evening with Anna, I’d pick Anna in a second.

  After we’ve been at the bar for close to an hour, Cal sends a pair of drinks to some girls across the bar. He’s decided they’re an eight and a nine. There are only two of them, and it’s implied that the girls will be for Cal and Joe. We all know there’s essentially zero chance either of them would go for me.

  My heart actually starts to race when the girls come over to us. When they get closer, the eight nudges the nine, and says, “You can have the hot one, and I’ll take the cute one.”

  Apparently, I’m the cute one. At least, that’s what I assume when the eight (actually named Jessie) sits next to me and starts talking to me. The nine (Petra) sits next to Calvin, and Joe is left the odd man out. I allow myself a pat on the back for that one.

  Jessie smells like flowers, and is wearing a teeny tiny tank top. She’s closer to me than any woman has been in a long time, and instead of being my usual (ha!) suave self, I’m finding it hard to think and even breathe. Luckily, Jessie doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

  “You’re the quiet type, aren’t you, Matt?” Jessie whispers in my ear.

  “Maybe,” I say. Up until recently, nobody ever would have described me that way. But when Jessie’s tongue is nearly in my ear, I’m going to agree with everything she says.

  “I like that,” she says. “It means you’re a good listener.”

  Sure. Whatever you say, lady.

  Jessie’s fingers slide into my hair, and I swear to fucking God, I’m going to cream myself right here and now. She smiles at me and says, “You ever kissed a girl with a tongue stud before?”

  “Once.” A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Yes,” I manage.

  Christ, when did I become so terrified around the opposite sex? Jessie is sliding closer to me, and I wonder if she notices the braces on my legs. Maybe she does. Maybe she’s fine with it. I mean, she’s close enough that I think she must notice.

  “I love your eyes,” Jessie tells me. “They’re very soulful.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I like your…” I like Jessie’s tits. They’re high and firm and packed into that tight little tank top. But I probably shouldn’t say that. It’s not generally something you want to compliment a girl on after she tells you that you’re soulful. “I like your eyes too. They’re blue but they look green.”

  “That’s because they’re yellow in the middle,” Jessie says. “Like a cat.”

  “I like cats.” Christ, I sound like a moron.

  “I like quiet guys with soulful eyes,” she says in a low voice.

  And then we’re kissing. Forget the tongue stud—I don’t even want to think about the last time I kissed a girl period. Damn, it feels good. I might be in love with Anna, but I don’t even care anymore. I want this girl. I want to fuck her. Short of that, I want to keep kissing her. She’s so fucking hot.

  I’ve got one beer in me, and while I’m kissing her, the urge to go to the bathroom hits me. It used to be that I would need the bathroom, and I could wait an hour or two if necessary. That’s not true recently. When the urge strikes me, it suddenly feels very urgent. Scarily urgent. And that’s how I feel right now, while I’m kissing Jessie. I need the bathroom, or else… I don’t even want to think about the “or else.” I need the bathroom.

  “Hey,” I say to Jessie as we separate for air. She seems breathless, and for that, I give myself another little pat on the back. “I gotta take a piss. I’ll be right back.”

  Jessie grins at me. “Should I come with you?”

  Shit, no. “That’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

  At that point, I thought Jessie had to realize my situation, or at least had some slight idea. But when I grab my crutches out from under the table, and struggle to my feet, I see that’s not the case. All the blood drains out of Jessie’s pretty face.

  “Oh,” she says. “I didn’t realize that…”

  “I’ll be right back,” I say.

  I start the trek to the back of the bar, where the bathrooms are located. As I walk away, I hear Jessie say, “For fuck’s sake! Why didn’t any of you warn me I was kissing a gimp!”

  Well, so much for getting sex tonight.

  I make it to the bathroom in time, despite the number of tables I have to navigate past. There are two stalls available and two urinals, and I use the handicapped stall. I only recently started doing that. I’d actually been avoiding the handicapped stalls like the plague, but people keep offering them to me. It’s hard to unzip and also to point my dick in the right direction while I’m also struggling to stay on my feet, so I gave in and started pissing while sitting down. Yeah, it’s emasculating, but preferable to face-planting into a piss-filled urinal.

  When I get back to the table, Jessie is gone and so is Joe. I should have seen it coming but it still makes me feel like shit. Calvin sees my face and looks guilty. “She said she wasn’t feeling well and Joe offered to drive her home,” he explains.

  “Right,” I say as I drop down into my seat.

  Petra, the nine, says to me, “I told her to stay. I thought you were still cuter than the other guy. He had way too much gel in his hair.”

  “Thanks.” I roll my eyes.

  “Do you want to have another drink with me and Petra?” Calvin asks me.


  I shake my head. “That’s okay. I think I’m going to head out, if you don’t mind. I’m tired.”

  I’m not lying. Lately, I’ve been needing about ten hours of sleep to get through the day. But even so, I would have had energy if Jessie were still here.

  I get back on my feet and head back to the office building, where my car is parked in the handicapped spot by the entrance. I got my plates six months ago, right when I converted to hand controls for the car. At first, I swore I’d never use those plates. But now I use them. If everyone thinks I’m a gimp, may as well reap the benefits.

  When I get home, far earlier than I intended, I see Rosie sitting on her porch with a beer in her hand. I may look different than I did a year ago, but Rosie doesn’t. She’s wearing her tight jeans and a see-through pullover covering her tank top. She waves to me as I get out of my car.

  “Hi, Matt.” Her voice no longer has that flirtatious edge that it had before I told her about my diagnosis. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  Little did I know, that day last year when I turned her away was my last chance to have sex for the foreseeable future. I remember what Rosie said to me before she left: If you ever change your mind, I’m still game.

  I wonder if her offer still stands.

  “Um.” I grip the handles of my crutches tighter, my heart pounding slightly in my chest. “I don’t suppose you want to… you know, finish that beer inside?”

  I nod in the direction of the door to my apartment. I’m sure she gets my meaning.

  Rosie looks very surprised. She laughs, almost nervously. “Oh… um. The thing is, it’s getting late so… I was just about to…”

  “No, that’s fine,” I say quickly, trying to preserve my dignity. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” I look away from her. “I’ll see you later, Rosie.”