by Shears, KT
‘Sure, why not?’
Matt took my hand and led me onto the floor. A slower song had come on now, and he slipped his arm round my waist, drawing me in closer. We moved gently, my hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscle underneath. I breathed him in. He smelled as amazing as usual. I resisted the urge to rest my head on him, feeling perhaps this was too intimate, but I tightened my grip on his shoulder and he responded, drawing me even closer.
The song ended and we stood like that for a second, enjoying the closeness. At least I was, and from his breathing, I think he was, too. The upbeat notes of the next tune jerked us out of our reverie, and we moved apart, embarrassed suddenly.
‘Sorry if I tread on your toes,’ I said, trying to break the awkwardness.
‘No, you were the perfect gentleman,’ Matt said, jokingly, and I slapped him lightly on the arm.
We sat back down and Sarah joined us. I didn’t know if she’d seen us on the dancefloor; I hoped not.
We didn’t dance again – I felt like each of us knew that we were heading down a road that we’d started on a week or two previously, and neither of us wanted to be the one to take the lead. It was an awkward little threesome and, for once, even Matt’s conversation was stilted. Eventually I yawned and glanced at the clock.
‘I think I might head to bed,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ Matt admitted, ‘I’m pretty tired, too. Sarah?’
‘I think I’ll stay for a bit,’ she replied, watching the couples twirling around the floor.
Surprised she didn’t want to escort Matt and I to our separate rooms, like an elderly and disapproving aunt, I stood up and waited for Matt to grab his suit jacket. We said goodnight to Sarah and wove our way through the dancers.
We stood, waiting for the lift. The atmosphere felt electric. We weren’t touching, but the tiny hairs of my skin were on end, and I was desperate for Matt to take me in his arms. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The lift arrived and the doors opened. We stepped inside. The doors shut and, suddenly, Matt’s arms were round me and his lips were on mine, his tongue more urgent than it had been the last time we kissed, probing hard in my mouth. I pressed myself against him and heard him moan slightly. He pulled me in as close as he could, and he kept kissing me, passionately and intensely. The lift dinged as we reached our floor and we fell apart, panting.
‘I’m sorry,’ Matt swallowed. ‘I couldn’t help it. I told myself I shouldn’t but then I saw you tonight, in that and….I just couldn’t help it.’
Still breathing heavily, I shook my head. ‘Don’t apologise.’
We exited the lift, and he took my hand as we walked down the corridor. We paused outside my door and we stood in silence for a second.
‘I should say goodnight,’ he said.
‘Goodnight, Matt,’ I said, and reached up to kiss his mouth gently.
He stood looking at me for a long moment, then disappeared into his own room.
Chapter nineteen
I didn’t get to be alone with Matt for the whole of the next day, much to my disappointment after that kiss. I was relieved that, unlike Spain, he hadn’t tried to pull away or explain it away, or tell me it was unprofessional. It gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something there; something more than a stolen kiss after a shared bottle of wine.
We were plunged into a whirlwind of seminars, workshops and sales talks, and we battled through the crowds with our ever-increasing haul of promotional material and free USB sticks.
‘What are we going to do with all these?’ I pulled open my bag and took out a fistful of them, waving them around menacingly.
Matt shrugged. ‘Maybe you’ll actually learn how to use one.’ I punched his arm and he pretended to stumble, rubbing it furiously. It had just been an excuse to touch him, of course.
We rushed straight from a fascinating lecture on cloud networking to the evening meal, and Sarah strategically placed herself between Matt and I.
We all headed upstairs together and I was disappointed when I ended up in my room by myself. I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, massaging my soles. I picked up my phone – I hadn’t had a chance to check my messages all day.
There was one from Jen:
‘How’s the big smoke? Was there some horrendous hotel mix-up and you’re now sharing a room with boy wonder?’
I texted back:
‘I’m in Birmingham, you twat, and no. In my own room, on my own, with sweaty feet.’
I checked my e-mails. Nothing from Barry, which was pleasing, yet suspicious at the same time.
I was just contemplating turning on the TV when I heard a gentle knocking. I crossed over to the door and peered through the hole. My heart leapt. It was Matt. I quickly undid the chain and opened the door.
‘Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you,’ he said, apologetically, looking down at my bare feet.
‘Not at all.’ We stood awkwardly for a second. ‘Would you like to come in?’
He stepped inside and I closed the door behind him. I hadn’t expected him to come by my room, and I wished I’d freshened up after the long day.
‘I wanted to talk to all day,’ he began, ‘ but never really got the chance. About last night..’
Oh here we go again, I thought. He’s made another mistake. I didn’t think I could keep doing this. It was like being a rollercoaster; the constant churning of emotions, feeling unwanted, wanted, and then unwanted again. Although I had made up my mind to shelve this ridiculous exposé, I still didn’t feel I could stay around him any longer. It was too hard.
My thoughts must have shown plainly on my face as he held up a hand.
‘No, hear me out. Last night was amazing, and I don’t want to go home and pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t stop thinking about you, Alice. I wake up and get excited that I’m going to see you, I go home and I’m sad to leave work because I know I have to spend an evening without you.’
I stared at him, gobsmacked. Was I hearing him right? He wanted to spend time with me? He couldn’t stop thinking about me?
Before I could think of what to say, he grabbed me round the waist, and pulled me in for a kiss. We picked up right where we had left off, last night’s urgency undiminished. I could feel he was hard within seconds, and my hand stroked him through his trousers. He moaned and his hips jerked.
‘Fuck, I want you so bad,’ he said, and lifted me up, carrying me across to the bed.
He set me down and clambered on top of me, kissing my neck, his hands stroking my stomach and slowly, ever so slowly, working their way up my body. Likewise, my hands were exploring his chest, and as I moved them downwards, I heard him gasp and moan. I tugged at his trousers, fumbling with the buttons, and he reached down and quickly undid them. I pulled them off so he was just in his boxers, and he pulled his shirt over his head. His body was incredibly, toned but not too muscly.
‘Your turn.’
He pulled off my top and slid down my trousers, so I was just in my bra and pants. His hands roamed over my body, searching out every little hollow. I rubbed my hand over the bulge in his boxers – a tiny wet patch soaking through the material. He groaned, and started kissing my thighs, teasingly getting closer, and then further away, from the wet piece of material that was all that stood between him and my clitoris. I was getting impatient; we’d been working up to this ever since we had met. I pulled at his boxers and they came off easily. He sprang free and I grasped him in my hand, rubbing the drop of wetness in the tip right down his shaft.
He moaned, more urgently now.
‘I’m not going to last,’ he warned, and I indicated I was ready for him. He grabbed his trousers from beside him, took out his wallet and fumbled for a condom, taking it out and unwrapping it. I took it from him.
‘Here, let me.’
He shivered as I rolled it down his shaft, and then he was on top of me, sliding inside. He pushed himself in fully, and I could feel his body tre
mble. He stayed like that for a few seconds, gathering himself.
‘I don’t if I can last long with you,’ he said, his voice wavering slightly. I responded by bucking my hips and he moaned, and started sliding in and out. I didn’t think I could last long either and I was right. As his penis rubbed against my clitoris, I could feel the orgasm building, but I still wasn’t prepared for its intensity
‘I’m going to come,’ I warned him, and his rhythm became wilder, the thrusts deeper and faster. I cried out as my orgasm hit, my body gripping his penis. I could feel him lose control, and he let out a cry himself, as he thrust himself in as far as he could. I could feel him throbbing inside of me, and I was gasping and moaning with the strength of my own orgasm.
After we had lain there for a few minutes, catching our breath, he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. He then came back and stood in the doorway. I goggled at his body in the full light, but then felt suddenly exposed myself.
‘Why are you just standing there?’
‘You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that, right?’
I blushed and curled up self-consciously. No one needs to be seen naked with the lights on. Apart from Matt, obviously.
‘Oh, don’t do that,’ he said, and crossed the room to get back into the bed. He put his arm round my shoulders and I snuggled in. He stroked my hair and we lay in silence for a while. I was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but then he said, suddenly, ‘I treated you awfully in Spain. I’m so sorry.’
I craned my neck to look at him.
‘You didn’t,’ I said, ‘It was just a bad time.’
He sighed deeply. ‘It was a bad time. Everytime I’m back there, it reminds me of what happened with my sister.’ He looked down at me. ‘I told you she was dead, didn’t I?’ I nodded. ‘What I didn’t tell you is that she was murdered.’
I hastily arranged my face into an expression of horror. He sighed again and rubbed his chin.
‘I found her.’
I gasped. I hadn’t read that in the online articles.
‘Mum hadn’t heard from her in a few days so asked me to go round. I had a spare key, so when she didn’t answer, I let myself in, and I found her lying on the floor, her head bashed in.’
I squeezed his arm.
‘I called an ambulance, of course, but I knew it was too late.’
‘That’s horrible,’ I said, kissing his hand gently.
‘You’ve no idea. I had to call my parents and tell them what had happened. And I couldn’t even explain what had happened. They were devastated, and my dad collapsed and had to be rushed to hospital. It was an awful time,’ He seemed oblivious to my presence now, like he had been storing this story up for years, and now he’d started, it was all going to come out. ‘I knew who’d done it, and I told the police that right away. Her scumbag boyfriend, Miguel.’
I recognised his name from the newspaper reports.
‘Did they arrest him?’ I asked.
‘They questioned him,’ Matt replied, balling his hand up into a fist. ‘But they didn’t have enough evidence to hold him so he was released. We, my parents and I, knew he’d been knocking her about, and we’d been trying to get her to leave him, but she’d stopped talking to us about it.’ He looked at me sadly. ‘By trying to help her, we pushed her away. I still think of that often.’
I shook my head. ‘You did what anyone would do,’ I said.
Matt shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I was so angry. I couldn’t believe he was out there walking around, while my sister was lying cold in the morgue, her head beaten to a pulp. Christ, I could see her brains.’
I felt sick, but let him continue.
‘So I went to see him. I had to see what he had to say. He opened the door and he just smirked at me. Just stood there, smirking. I stayed calm, I asked him what he had done to my sister. And you know what he said? “Bitch deserved it.”’
I looked at him, shocked. This Miguel sounded like a monster.
‘Well, that was it,’ Matt said, dully. ‘I lost control of myself. He’d as good as admitted what he’d done. I punched him and he fell, and then I kept punching him. I couldn’t stop. I could tell he wasn’t conscious any more, but I just kept hitting him. I would have killed him, if the man who lived in the apartment opposite hadn’t heard the noise and come out. He dragged me off him, he got punched a few times for his trouble, but he stopped me from killing him.’
He blew out a long breath.
‘Of course, I was arrested. I’d done some serious damage, although nothing life-threatening. While he was in hospital, they found scratches on his body they knew I couldn’t have inflicted, and when they scraped under my sister’s fingernails, they found his DNA. So he was charged.’
‘What about you?’ I asked, already knowing the answer in my heart, but hoping justice had prevailed.
Matt sighed. ‘I’d committed a crime. The cops knew what had happened, but it didn’t matter. I’d put someone in hospital with serious injuries, they had no choice but to charge me. My parents were utterly broken – not only was their daughter lying dead on a slab in the morgue, but their son was being charged with assault. It just about killed my dad, he never recovered. He was always such a happy man, but that day, it was like his light just went out.’
I thought of poor Annie, and how she’d have had to deal with everything.
‘I was released on bail,’ Matt continued. ‘But I was a wreck, and mum had to try to deal with me and my dad. He was still in hospital, he’d had a “cardiac episode” brought on by stress, so mum was terrified to involve him at all. She did it all herself – found me a lawyer, arranged Leila’s funeral. And when Miguel went on trial, she went there every day and sat, staring at him. She wanted him to know that she would never forgive him.’
‘What happened to you?’ I asked, in a whisper.
‘I admitted the assault. My lawyer said I’d probably get a shorter sentence if I said I was guilty, but I refused to show remorse. The judge understood, though, but said her hands were tied.’
‘So, what, you went to prison?’ I asked, shocked at the injustice of it all.
‘I went to prison,’ Matt said. ‘For two years. Thank God not the same one as Miguel, or I think I really would have killed him. My dad was in bits, and couldn’t visit me, but my mum came in every week, always wearing some bright outfit, as if she thought she could light the place up for me for an hour.’
‘It must have been awful,’ I murmured, stroking his arm. I don’t know what I’d expected he’d gone to prison for, but it wasn’t this. This was tragic.
‘It was awful,’ he admitted. ‘Luckily, word had got round what a state I’d left Miguel in, so people let me alone, most of the time. I got in a few fights, but nothing serious.’ He suddenly lifted my hand and moved it to just under his ribcage. I felt the shiny texture of a scar.
‘What was that from?’ I asked.
‘My cellmate decided I’d stolen something of his one day and stabbed me with a shiv while I was sleeping.’
I sat up in abject horror.
‘You were stabbed?!’ I exclaimed, examining the scar more closely. It didn’t look particularly awful but I was horrified. Stabbings were things I wrote about, not things that happened to people I knew and lay in bed with.
‘Not very badly,’ he said, laughing slightly at my reaction. ‘The shiv was badly made and the handle fell off, so it didn’t go in deep. One hell of a wake-up, though. Anyway I was in there for two years, and when I came out, I couldn’t stay in Spain anymore. There were too many memories. So I came back home. I spent six months drinking and watching TV then my mum came to visit and gave me a kick up the arse.’
He laughed.
‘I’d always wanted to own my own company, so I started working on a business plan. I was about to go to the bank when a cheque arrived from my dad – he’d given me all their savings to start up my business. I tried to give it back, but he wouldn’t have it. He may have been broken, but he was st
ill stubborn.’ He spread his hands. ‘So, now you know.’
‘Who else knows?’ I asked, curious.
‘Angus. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and my mum called him right away. He’s never told a soul, though. And never would.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Pretty much,’ Matt said. ‘Once I tell people my sister’s dead, I find they tend not to pry any further.’ He looked down at me. ‘Are you horrified?
‘Yes,’ I said, and he looked crestfallen. ‘Not at you, you idiot,’ I said, quickly. ‘I’m horrified that you had to go to prison because of what that man did to your sister. It’s a travesty.’
It crossed my mind that this horrendous miscarriage of justice would make an even better exposé, if I wasn’t working for a paper edited by a soulless monster.
‘It’s in the past,’ he said, simply, ‘but it’ll always be with me.’
I stroked his chest and we cuddled up closer. I felt honoured that he’d trusted me enough to tell me the truth; and ashamed that I didn’t deserve his trust. I wouldn’t ever tell anyone what he had told me, no matter how this ended. It was too utterly, utterly sad for words.
Matt’s breathing became deeper and slower, and I realised he’d fallen asleep. I closed my eyes, and within a few minutes, had drifted off, too.
Chapter twenty
I awoke to a knock on the door and, at first I struggled to recall where I was. Argh, who was that in the bed with me? Oh, Matt, of course. But if Matt was beside me, snoring gently, who was that at the door?
‘Alice?’
Oh crap, it was Sarah. I fumbled on the nightstand for my phone. Crap, it was 8:30am. I elbowed Matt in the ribs and he woke up, swearing. I waved my phone frantically in his face.
‘Alice, I cannot see what you are trying to show me,’ he said, blinking and trying to focus.
