Him Pt. 02

I spent almost the full next day wondering if I should demand some sort of an answer from Matthew.

Rationally, I knew he hadn't done anything more than being horribly disrespectful to his wife. We had barely even touched each other platonically, let alone kissed or done anything worse.

But there was a deep level of hurt that I was struggling to ignore. I had felt a genuine connection and I thought he'd felt the same. It sounded ridiculous. I had met men before who had faked an emotional connection to sleep with me only to dump me out of the blue a few weeks later. I had become accustomed to looking out for them.

This felt different, somehow. I didn't believe that he was trying to get me into bed. It felt too natural. And he'd made no attempt to ask me on a date or meet at my flat or his hotel room. So, what was it?

That question was the reason I eventually messaged him on Tuesday evening.

ME: Hey, any chance you'd have a spare minute for a coffee sometime soon?

MATT: Hi

MATT: It's late notice but I'm not needed on set tomorrow morning?

ME: Great, I'll take an early lunch. Can you meet me at 11am?

MATT: Just tell me where

I couldn't help it - a part of me felt elated that it was so easy to make a date with him. I wasn't being harsh on myself - I knew I was a good-looking girl. I had a good job, I was intelligent, I could be funny. I was a catch. But I was still a regular person. He was in a different league, filled with celebrities and people with crazy money. Matthew moved in circles that I had seen through my dad brushing shoulders with them but, even then, they felt untouchable to me. So having his attention felt... almost euphoric.

I made a mental note to look up therapists in my area after this coffee. And since I'd resolved to better myself then, it wouldn't hurt if I meticulously planned my hair, make-up, and outfit for tomorrow. Right? Right?

***

The next day I was outside the café we had settled upon - or rather, I had chosen since he barely knew Edinburgh - on Leith walk fifteen minutes early.

I could barely settle at work. Honestly, I had considered taking a sick day that morning because I was so anxious. As it was I'd woken up at 5.30am and was unable to get back to sleep. I had gone for a run - something I never did - to try and calm myself.

Walking inside, I had expected to have the upper-hand. I could choose where we sat (preferably somewhere quieter) and order myself a tea and pay for it before he arrived. That way if I needed to leave in a rush, I could, without forcing him to settle my bill.

But the universe had a way of fucking best-laid plans.

Matthew was already sitting at a table. He'd chosen something towards the back, away from the windows, with few people around. Likely the table I would have chosen, actually, so... small mercies, I guessed.

He only had a glass of water in front of him and his head was down, reading a book. He hadn't bent the cover all the way back, like a heathen, and I could see the title from here.

The Yellow Castle.

My mouth gaped. That was one of my books - one that I had selected and worked with. It was a historical romance set in the court of James IV of Scotland. It followed a relationship he had with one of the ladies at court before he was married. It was a beautiful story, one of my favourites actually.

Where the fuck did he get it?

Matthew's head bobbed up and he smiled sweetly at me. I must have looked ridiculous - standing in the middle of a café gaping at him. Dear Lord, I had so little self-awareness.

I approached the table and he stood, moving around to give me a kiss on the cheek. It was casual - a completely normal thing for two adults to do - yet it both electrified and horrified me. 'Do it again' warred with 'don't touch me'.

"I haven't ordered yet," he told me as I put my coat on the back of my seat. "What would you like?"

"Oh, it's alright, I'll come up with you-" I began but he cut me off.

"I insist," he smiled gently, holding his hand out so I wouldn't stand.

I always hated arguing with people over who got the bill. Besides, I had a fiver in my purse. "A breakfast tea, please. With milk on the side."

"No bother," he moved over to the counter. As soon as his back was turned, I slipped the money from my purse and stuck it in the pocket of his jacket.

Unable to help myself, I picked up the book he had been reading, careful not to lose his place. He was roughly two thirds of the way through. If he was reading in between filming then he was quite a fast reader.

I didn't believe in coincidences, so I assumed he had begun reading this after meeting me. It wasn't a long-shot - when my name was googled it came up with a profile about me on the publisher's website, as well as a few notable books I'd been involved with. This was one of the best received works I'd developed, so it wasn't surprising he'd picked it. I wondered if he had known that it was a romance when he'd bought it.

"They'll bring it over," he said as he sat down in front of me again. I deflated a bit at his choice of seat. If I had been here first I would have chosen the seat that faced the café. As it was, I had nothing to look at but him. Most distracting.

"Thank you," I smiled a little, forgoing mentioning the five pound note he had in his jacket. "Interesting book choice," I remarked as he picked it up and folded the corner of the page down. Ugh.

He had the good grace to look a bit abashed. "It's good," he replied. "I understand what you saw in it. Is it an accurate historical representation?"

"I have no idea," I admitted, shrugging. "I'm not very good with history."

"I love history," he told me. "I studied classics at university, actually, so if you find a book about Greek tragedies you should definitely publish it."

I watched him apprehensively. He was behaving differently from the first few times I'd met him. He was still being flirty but it was gentle. He wasn't being arrogant or teasing me.

I nodded and we fell into a small silence.

How are you supposed to bring up whether or not someone you fancy is married?

"You're looking at me funny," he said, dipping his head.

I knew my eyes were wary. I had my arms folded and I was leaning back in my chair. I remembered what I'd learned about body-language in drama in secondary school. This was considered 'closed' and it indicated that I was upset or didn't like the situation I was in. Clearly, I wasn't worried about being subtle.

"You seem different," I told him.

Our drinks arrived then and we thanked the waitress before turning back to each other. He had a flat white. I felt like I could have guessed that was his order.

"How so?" He asked, stirring sugar into his coffee. I allowed my teapot to sit for a moment so the leaves could soak.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "You seem almost shy compared to when I saw you last."

Matthew breathed out a laugh. "That's fair. I'm a little bit nervous."

"Nervous?" My eyebrows inched up. "Why are you nervous?"

"I-" he looked up at me from under his lashes and his cheeks were tinged pink. It was adorable. "I get a bit socially anxious. I've been thinking about how I would act and what I would say since last night. I've over-thought this whole thing, really." He ran a hand through his hair and smiled at me. It was self-depreciating and I could see how genuinely uneasy he was.

How endearing, I thought before immediately chastising myself. But it was too late.

I'd come to do battle with the other version of Matthew - the inflated-ego, talented-actor version. Instead, I got this. If I went off on him now it would feel like shouting at a puppy.

"I'm sorry," he said when I didn't speak. "This must be quite pathetic to watch. A man so much older than you getting this worked up over meeting for a coffee."

He looked at me so softly. The need to put him at ease overwhelmed me.

Oh man, I was so fucked.

"No," I sat forward, loosening my arms until they rested on my legs. "I'm sorry. I'm being stand-offish. I've been over-thinking this as well and I got a bit worked up, too."

"What were you over-thinking?" he asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

I poured my tea then, adding milk, before taking a sip. When I looked at him, he was smiling comfortingly.

"This is going to sound silly, but I told my friends about you," I felt my mouth twitch a little. It was like a switch flipped in him - his eyes brightened and he leaned forward.

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Please tell me every sordid detail," he smirked, his voice low. He spoke quietly, to the point where the words were almost just a rumble in his chest.

Much better, I let go a breath of relief. This was the Matthew I was used to. This was the Matthew I came here to fight with.

"They were all thrilled, of course. In fact my friend Emma has you on her hear-me-out list," I knew Emma would want him to know that.

"What's a 'hear-me-out' list?" He asked, puzzled.

"It's a list of people that you'd shag but you have to defend that choice to other people. Like, if you fancied someone who's not conventionally attractive and your friends need you to explain what you see in them."

Matthew fought between laughing and looking horribly offended. "Hand on a minute," he held a finger up as I began to chuckle. "How am I not conventionally attractive?!"

I laughed louder at the look on his face. "It's because of that Waitrose advert - the one where you play all the people. She fancied you as the mum picking out cereal."

"Ugh," he groaned, leaning back. He ran his hands over his face. "I'll never hear the end of that advert. My friends take the piss out of me all the time for it."

"As they should," I nodded, taking another drink of tea.

"Right, what else?" he asked, getting over the humiliation quickly.

"Hm?"

"What else did they say about me?"

I gulped my tea.

"They, uh, tried to help me draft a message to you," I felt my cheeks heat. The conversation was naturally turning to what I'd found out. I kind of wanted to dig my heels in and stall it.

"Really?" He asked. "And all they could come up with was 'do you want to go for coffee'? Poor show," he grinned. "My friends would have sent something devastating and you never would have spoken to me again."

"Well, not exactly," I admitted. "We couldn't figure out what to send so we Googled you to see if that helped."

Matthew's grin dropped just a little. He was still smiling but the teasing quality was gone.

He didn't say anything. I think he knew.

Say it, the voice said at the same time a new, and much hornier voice said Don't you dare! It seemed my mind was splitting, attempting to allow me to break all moral and ethical codes just for a shag. Interesting.

"Who's Hannah Little?" I asked, hating how my voice came out breathy and weak.

"My wife," he simply stated. His smile kept slowly slipping, though not in a guilty way. He didn't look like I'd caught him red-handed or anything.

"So, you're married," it was somehow both a statement and a question.

"Yes."

A beat passed as I processed this information. "How long have you been married for?"

"Six years."

Ok, so not a new thing. I knew it wasn't something that maybe happened since I first met him three days ago. But the picture on Wikipedia had shown them together a year ago. Not that it helped anyway.

"Does that-" he stopped himself.

"Does that what?" I asked, curious where he was going with it.

"Nothing," he said instead, looking down at his coffee.

A moment of silence passed.

I wasn't going to say anything more. I was just going to wrap things up nicely, tell him it had been good to see him but I had to go back to work, and not speak again. I could have done that. I maybe should have done that. I was just going to chalk all of the flirting up to me being a bit naïve. Maybe I'd misunderstood - maybe he hadn't been flirting. He admitted to it all so casually, though, it made me wonder if it had all been in my head.

But then I remembered the text he had sent to himself from my phone and I knew that it wasn't all in my head at all. I thought about the way I had gushed to my friends. If it hadn't been real, they would have said something. If it hadn't been real, he wouldn't have been so nervous coming here.

"What was the plan here?" I asked, genuinely curious. I was mindful to keep my voice down. "Were you going to try to get me to sleep with you and then ghost me?"

"No!" Matthew looked appalled, his eyes meeting mine once again. "No, Jesus, I wouldn't. I-" He ran his hand through his hair. He looked flustered. As well he should.

I made a disgusted noise in my throat and went to grab my bag, shrugging my coat back on. I should have left it. I could have left with a bit more dignity. There was still time to save face in fact-

"Wait," Matthew grabbed my sleeve to stop me from leaving. My leg jolted the table, spilling some of the tea left in my cup. "You have no reason to believe me but please let me explain myself. I have never behaved like this before."

"What - like a lying, cheating dick?"

"Yes," he admitted, nodding emphatically. "I've never lied to anyone about my marriage, even by omission. And I've never cheated. What's happening here," he gestured between the two of us, "I've not done this before. It's not some sort of well-rehearsed routine to get younger girls into bed."

"Well, it seems like it," I looked away from him, trying not to sound hurt. I didn't want it to be rehearsed. I wanted him to want me and that made me feel even worse. His poor wife, I thought.

"Look, I don't expect you to trust me. I've crossed a line and I'm genuinely sorry. I shouldn't have asked for your number, or flirted, or any of this. I can't rationalise it to myself, let alone to you."

I looked at him disbelievingly. "You're the one who just asked for a chance to provide an explanation - have you actually got one?"

Matthew swallowed. He took a breath and then looked me in the eye. He seemed to be searching for something. "I like you. That may seem really banal, and it is, but it doesn't happen often for me. I don't like anyone. When I said I get socially anxious, I really meant it. So, when I met you and my first instinct was to try and make you like me, too, I was shocked. And then when it seemed to work, I was even more shocked. It just all seemed so natural, I suppose, so I kept doing it. I rationalised that because we weren't crossing a line, it didn't really matter. I had - and still have - no plans to cross that line, Maddy. I just like being around you. For some reason I feel really confident when I speak to you. I-" he stopped himself, eying me warily. "I'd like to be friends."

"Friends?" I echoed.

"Yes," he searched my face. "I mean, are we actually doing anything wrong?"

I frowned. His hand was still holding my sleeve from where he'd stopped me from leaving. I pulled it back gently.

"The flirting would have to stop," I stated. I don't know why I did. Wasn't I resolved to cut all contact?

"Of course," he agreed, nodding his head.

Besides that did I have any actual stipulations? I knew I didn't want to stop being around him.

Because you fancy him, that moral voice in my head reminded me. Did that mean I wasn't allowed to be friends with him?

If I didn't cross any lines and we stopped flirting, would it all just be ok?

"It's a lot to ask," he sighed. "Look, I'm in Edinburgh until the second week in November. We have a lot of filming to do but I'll also have quite a bit of down time. I'd like to have someone I can do stuff with that doesn't either fawn over me or won't shut up about work."

I watched him as he spoke, and he seemed sincere. "What kind of stuff?"

"Anything," he smiled a little, looking hopeful. "Touristy rubbish like visiting castles and climbing Arthur's seat. Going for a drink, getting coffee, anything."

"Ok," I sighed, taking my coat back off, as though I were resigned to my fate. "We can give it a go."

If I were being honest with myself, this was exactly what I had hoped for. I needed a reason to be near him. I needed a logical, ethically-sound reason - something that smoothed out all of the guilt and worry and left me free of blame. If he said he could be my friend without all of the flirting, then we could try.

My friends were going to kill me.

***

The next day I got a text from Matthew.

I couldn't help the little thrill that ran through me at seeing his name when my phone buzzed. We had stayed at the café for another forty minutes before I was forced to head back to work. He walked me back to the office before saying goodbye - no hugging, nor kissing on the cheek.

It had been lovely. Really wholesome and very sweet. We had spoken about his family - he grew up in Bath with his mum, dad, and two younger brothers. His mum was a primary school teacher and his dad was an engineer. He said it was a very normal childhood until he won a grant from a private secondary school when he was eleven. Apparently his parents fought about whether or not he should be allowed to go, since his brothers might not get the opportunity, but eventually they gave in and sent him. It struck me how different our upbringings were. The idea that parents would try and stop their child from benefitting from something was odd to me.

He really did love the classics and I listened intently to him speaking about Greek tragedies. I didn't understand a lot of it - it was quite hard to follow - but he was so animated and passionate that it was quite inspiring to listen to him.

In turn, I told him about my love of books and why I had chosen publishing over film. I explained that my dad had been trying to mould me into a mini-director from a young age. He would have even been happy with me acting, but I hated it. I hated how set and rehearsed everything was. I thought that maybe it was because my mum's line of work held so much opportunity for imagination - the stories told in books were a different experience for everyone reading them - that I had followed her instead.

We did not speak about his wife. I knew it was something that friends could and would discuss, but I resolved that it was too soon. The disappointment was still too fresh.

My phone vibrated again and I opened his texts.

MATT: There's a spider in my hotel room.

MATT: Would it be childish to call reception to send someone to help?

ME: Absolutely.

MATT: Then what am I supposed to do?

ME: Make up an excuse that you need to move rooms.

MATT: Now there's an idea.

ME: Or grow a pair and kill it yourself?

MATT: It's too big for that.

ME: What a baby...

MATT: [picture of very large spider]

MATT: Would you go near that?

ME: Disregard my previous messages.

ME: Grab your things and burn the room.

ME: It's the only way.

MATT: It's run under the bed. Fuck.

ME: It's waiting for you to step off the bed. Then it'll jump.

MATT: Fuck you.

I giggled to myself.

MATT: Want to grab coffee and walk up Calton Hill on Saturday morning?

ME: Sure. I'll pick a place and message you tomorrow.

I put my phone down, still smiling.

We weren't flirting. I would have said any of that to Isla, Emma, or Craig.

But it still lit up this glowing feeling in my chest. If that's what being friends with Matthew felt like then I was happy to just let it happen.

***

"So, you're just going to be friends?" Isla asked, a little shocked. A little wary. I tried not to blame her.

We were in the flat she shared with Craig, sitting around the dining table, playing monopoly. It was Friday evening and they all wanted an update on the 'situation'. We'd only been playing for twenty minutes. We could have been there for another five hours - it had happened before.

"Yes," I nodded, watching Craig roll the dice and move the little dog. I had wanted the little dog.

Emma and Craig had been quiet through my description of what happened. I found myself withholding things as I went on - details about how he looked at me, or how I looked at him. The truth, basically. I omitted flirting, texting, and making plans for tomorrow.

"But why?" Isla asked, taking her turn and carefully counting out the places. "What do you get out of being friends with a married forty-five year old man?"

I took my turn, passing GO! and collected my money. "I don't know, Isla. I just like him - I like being around him."

"Yes, but you like him like that."

"What?" Emma asked, puzzled by the phrasing.

"You know - she likes him like that. Like more than a friend."

"She wants to fuck him," Emma refined. "It's ok, Isla, you can say it out loud."

"You're right but I have self-control. I'm not going to do anything about it," I clarified.

"Sure, you'll just pine away after him from a distance. Hoping that one day he'll get divorced of his own free will," Emma stated. She was stuck in prison, so she was a bit bitter.

"No," I argued. "I won't."

"Let me get this straight," Emma turned to me. She had a hard look in her eyes - unforgiving. "If he announces a separation from his wife a month from now and asks you out, what would you say?"

"I'd probably say yes," I concede. "But I don't see how-"

"There you go! You're waiting in the wings in case his situation changes because you want to fuck him."

"Ok, so what if she is," Isla jumps in. "It's only morally wrong if she actually interferes, right?"

"Bit of a grey area there," Craig winces. "I'd hate to think someone was only friends with you in case we broke up."

"Exactly," Emma agreed with Craig. "And it's not like you won't be jollying it along - whether intentional or not. You said it yourself, you can't help but flirt with him."

"I'm not going to break up their marriage," I insist, my words getting a bit clipped. "I just like being around him - the same way I like being around you guys. I don't see how there's anything wrong with that."

"Well, your dad's a director and your mum is in editing. You went to private school. It's not like you've ever struggled for money." Emma stated.

"I'm confused - what does that have to do with anything?"

"Can we get back to the game, please?" Isla sighed, not looking up. I hadn't taken my turn, and they were waiting.

"I'm just pointing out that this feeling of wanting something that you can't have might be new for you," Emma continued undeterred. "Maybe you find it a bit exciting."

"Oh, I get it - spoiled little rich girl doesn't understand that she can't get everything she wants? So, I'm automatically going to destroy their marriage just to shag him? Is that really what you think of me?"

"It wasn't until you decided to keep talking to him," Craig murmured, taking a drink.

"Craig!" Isla gasped, staring at him disbelievingly.

I waited a second but no one would make eye contact with me. Emma and Craig were clearly against me. Isla was standing up for me - sort of, but also not really.

Suddenly my throat felt tight. My eyes were burning.

Oh fuck.

"Maddy!" Isla shouted, clearly upset.

But I was already up, grabbing my stuff, and almost running to the door. I couldn't stand it - I couldn't deal with one more second of that feeling.

I'd never been good with people being disappointed in me. Madalyn Allan was a good girl. I hadn't just done well in school and university, I'd excelled. I went out of my way to help my friends. I always showed up for others, I never cancelled plans, I made sure I was attentive, I was modest, I did everything right.

I did not go around breaking up marriages and stealing people's husbands.

So why the fuck was I still talking to Matthew fucking Wood?

I stormed down the street, trying my best to navigate in the cold, dark night even with my vision blurry from tears.

Besides the fact that he was married, he was too old for me. He was arrogant and opportunistic. Not to mention he was an actor. He was so far from a good choice that it was coming dangerously close to self-sabotage.

Could it be that simple? Was I just bored with my life and looking for trouble?

Or do you just like him? A little voice reasoned in my head. Maybe it's unfortunate but still real.

Wiping my cheeks, which were burning from the cold, I pulled out my phone. I unlocked it, found Matthew on my contact list, and blocked his number. For good measure, I deleted it too, then I went onto all of my texts and got rid of our conversations and anything else connected to him.

You don't have feelings for him, I told myself sternly, shutting up that little voice. You just think you do. He's interesting and exciting and that's it.

Resolved that I'd done the right thing, I continued back to my flat.

I needed a cup of tea, a blanket, and a good book. Come the morning, I'd be fine.

***

When my alarm woke me the next morning, I had a horrible feeling like I was supposed to be doing something. Ignoring it, I made my way to the bathroom and began my usual morning routine.

Saturdays had always been a rest day, seeing as my friends and I had a tendency to go out on Fridays. There was the occasional Saturday brunch but never anything strenuous. I left that to my Sunday morning walks and coffee with Isla...

Walks and coffee.

"Fuck," I shouted, while brushing my teeth.

Fuck fuck fuck!

I had told Matthew on Friday that we'd meet at a café near St James' Quarter at 10am. And then I'd blocked him.

Fuck.

Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. It was 8.40am, so I had plenty of time to get ready and get over there. But the point of blocking him and deleting his number was so I wouldn't speak to him again, let alone see him. Now it meant I couldn't cancel plans.

Just don't go, one voice said. Stand him up and he'll take the hint.

I felt genuinely sick at the idea of Matthew waiting for me at a coffee shop. How long would he stay? What would he think? Would he try and call me? Would he be worried or angry or hurt...?

Just go, the other, more evil voice said. Put on the red lacy panties and go!

I returned to the bathroom and finished brushing my teeth, hopping from one foot to another.

I had to go. I knew I had to go. What's worse than blocking a 'friends' number and never giving them a reason as to why you won't see them again? Doing that and then standing them up in public. That would be unforgivable.

I got myself ready quickly after that. A little make-up, jeans, a light jumper, my trainers, and a jacket. I brushed my hair, likely pulling out a hand-full of it in my haste, and checked in the mirror. I didn't look amazing but I looked fine. I still had almost an hour before I was supposed to meet him, so I decided to just walk.

Calton hill was on the other side of Edinburgh from my flat - it'd take about 50 minutes to get there - but at least I'd have time to think of what to say. I could figure out how to best approach this without sounding like a petulant teenager who had blocked her crush because he didn't fancy her back. Yeah, not a good look.

Edinburgh was heaving - I had forgotten that not only was it a Saturday but it was the October holidays, as well - so it took me a little longer to get there.

Despite my obsessive thoughts, I was no closer to a solution when I arrived.

As I was approaching, Matthew looked up from his phone. His face lit up when he saw me. "Hi!"

"Hi," I greeted him. My cheeks were bright red, I could feel them burning. This was going to be too awkward.

"I tried to text you, but-"

"I blocked your number," I blurted out.

Smooth. Nicely done, Maddy.

Matthew looked disbelieving but amused. "You blocked my number?"

I grimaced. Fuck. This was so awkward. I hated it. "Sorry," I apologised. "I felt like it was the right thing at the time."

"How so?" he quirked a brow, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms.

"I was speaking to my friends about us being friends and they seem to think it's a bad idea." There, perfect. Blame it all on Isla, Emma, and Craig.

"Do you agree with them?" He asked, leaning against the wall next to him.

I sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure we can even be friends."

Matthew's lip ticked up, matching his brow. "Again - how so?"

"You know how so," I tilted my head, giving him a 'really?' look. "Please don't make me say it out loud," I groaned, closing my eyes.

"My ego deflated a bit when I found out I was blocked - you are morally obligated to fix it."

"But you know why," I argued, pleading with my eyes.

Even this was too much. I had a thing for teasing - the sort of gentle embarrassment that frustrates you to no end. It really got me going and he seemed very good at it.

Matt leaned forward a bit. "Humour me," he lifted his chin towards me, nudging me along.

"Fine," I exhaled, looking down and away from him. "I fancy you," I mumbled.

"Maddy?" He asked, trying to get me to look up. Grudgingly, I did. He didn't look smug, though he did look pleased. "I fancy you, too. See - two rational adults who can admit that without crossing a line."

The internal reaction I had to his words was indescribable. I felt as though I had completely lit up. I couldn't help the shit-eating grin that overtook my face. The blush that was already covering my cheeks crept down my neck and into my hairline. I had to cover my face with my hands.

"You are adorable, you know that?" He grinned at me, watching this clear overreaction.

"No," I grumbled, my smile dropping. "See, this is the problem - friends don't fancy each other."

His hand took my arm and pulled me closer to him. For a second I was confused - was he trying to hug me? Then I looked around and remembered how busy the street was. I was blocking the pavement. The movement was smart, but shitty - I was so close to him now, standing face to face. Or face to chest, really.

"Now that's just nonsense - plenty of friends fancy each other," Matthew let go of my arm and put his hands into his pockets. He cocked his head, looking down at me. "It's possible to just acknowledge the sensation and not do anything about it."

"Yes, it is," I added a firmness to my tone. Memories of what Emma had said last night came creeping in. "And that's how they end up getting really hurt. You allow yourself to be close to each other and you let the feelings build up into something real. Then you're both left heartbroken because it was doomed from the start! That's an excellent idea, thank you Matthew, I can't believe I didn't come up with that one by myself."

His eyebrows lifted at my tone. "So don't fall in love with me, then."

"Ha," I let out a breath - half laugh, half indignant whine. "I have zero intentions of falling in love with you."

"Fine, then don't."

"I won't."

"Good."

"Excellent!"

I stood, breathing a little harsher than before.

The air between us had a charge to it. I was afraid to move - I wasn't sure what it would do. Was it magnetic? If I so much as twitched a finger would I end up pouncing on Matthew in front of a café on a Saturday morning? Or was it a delicate thing, and if I moved it would shatter and we'd never see each other again?

Matthew took his bottom lip between his teeth and looked away from me.

The energy didn't shatter, it just simmered. At least it wasn't magnetic.

"Do you want me to stay away from you?" He asked.

No. "It's not about what I want," I told him. "It's about what's right."

He shook his head. "Maddy just answer the question - can we not be friends? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

I looked at him mournfully. I wanted to touch his face. I wanted to know what it would feel like to be held by him - just once. I wanted to know so badly if this chemistry felt as good physically as it did mentally.

I could be honest with him, which would be selfish, or I could lie and do the right thing. Wasn't that interesting how both held varying degrees of wrongness.

"If we stay friends like this," I gestured between us, "then I'll feel like I'm just hanging around, waiting for you to be available to me. I'll fall in love with you, even knowing I can't have you. That's not friendship. It's self-sabotage."

Oh, look at that, I thought. I chose to be selfish. But at least I was honest.

Yeah, like that'd absolve me.

Matthew's jaw clenched and he dipped his chin, looking away from me again.

I knew exactly what I was hoping for. I wanted him to tell me that he felt the same. That he'd end up falling in love with me, too, because how could he not? Then he would tell me that it was worth it - that I was worth it - and that he'd find a way to be with me. That he saw this energy between us and it was all he could think about. He might apologise for what he was about to do. Then he'd kiss me and-

"I won't message you again," he said instead. I felt the most unbelievable crushing sensation in my chest.

I didn't bother correcting him, that he couldn't message me anyway because he was blocked.

Matthew pushed away from the wall and headed back up towards Prince's Street. He didn't look back. At least one of us had some form of self-control.

I stood by the café, noticing some people stopping to stare at him. I didn't cry, which was surprising. I felt like I really needed to, but maybe I'd gotten it all out last night.

I wasn't sure how long I stood for. It couldn't have been long at all - maybe five minutes - as I tried to figure out what to do with myself next. I supposed I could go home and get some work done. Or I could climb up Calton Hill, wallow in self-pity and imagine where in Edinburgh Matthew had gone while I watched it all from above.

"Maddy?" A voice came from further down the street.

I searched the crowd but I didn't recognise anyone. Then I noticed a face smiling at me.

A guy - young, with blond hair. He looked vaguely familiar...

"Aleksander?" I frowned. Was it him? It looked kind of like him, but older.

"I was worried when you didn't reply," he said, moving to stand where Matthew had been. "You looked right past me."

Aleksander was a family friend, or rather the son of two of my parent's friends. He was two years older than me and we had hung out a bit when we were younger. I saw him at anniversary parties and the like over the years but he had changed quite a bit.

"You look..." I searched for the word. "I don't know. Older but good older?"

He chuckled. "I thought you were in publishing - shouldn't you be better with words?"

I smiled a little. "Yeah, I should."

"You alright? You look a bit out of sorts," his brows creased in the middle.

"No, I'm fine. Just a bit of a rough morning."

"The sacrifice for a good Friday night," he nodded. If only he knew. "What are you up to?"

"Actually, I was just trying to figure that out myself," I looked around.

"Want to get a coffee? We can catch up. That is - if you have time?"

"Sure," I smiled a little brighter, glad that I had something to take my mind off of Matthew. "This place has decent tea." I said, leading him into the café where we ordered drinks to go.

We left and began wandering.

"So, what are you doing in Edinburgh?" I asked. As far as I remembered, Aleksander had gone to university in the US and had settled in London.

"I'm just visiting," he flashed me a smile. "I took a week off of work to see some friends and my parents, of course."

"Ooh - let them know my dad is here filming," I nudged his arm. "We could all have dinner. Though my mum will be raging that she missed out."

"No, that's good though. At least we'd know what the fight would be this time and pre-empt it."

"We should have thought of that years ago," I giggled.

Almost every time our parents got together for a few drinks, one couple would end up arguing. We weren't sure why and it did seem to be coincidental but it was weird that it happened so many times.

By then it felt like the ice was broken a bit. It wasn't that we were strangers, of course, we'd spent a great deal of our childhood together. But there was an awkwardness of being alone together. That was new. In the past, we'd been pushed together by adults who simply saw two children of roughly the same age - go entertain yourselves. We hadn't spoken much since he moved for university.

We continued to walk and chat about our lives. Aleksander was working in tech - something to do with coding (he didn't try to explain it to me due to the expression I made when he first mentioned computers). He seemed to be doing well for himself.

As we were nearing Holyrood Palace, his phone began ringing. "My mum," he held the phone up. "I should answer."

"Mm," I finished my last mouthful of tea. "Please do."

I tried not to listen in to his conversation with his mum, Isabel, as we meandered along. That was until my name was mentioned.

"Actually, I'm with Madalyn Allan," I glanced at him but he wasn't looking. "Well she says that David is here filming. She suggested we go for dinner or something... I'm not sure - I think she's still in London... No idea... Why don't you call David and set it up then, I'm sure Maddy and I will be more flexible than either of you... Ok, excellent. I'll see you in an hour, then... Yep, love you, too... bye mum."

He turned to me then. "She's going to sort out a dinner for Saturday night - a week from today. Is that ok?"

"Bit late now," I smiled, nudging him with my elbow.

"You know my mum always really liked you. I think she wanted to have a daughter."

I did know this. Isabel had made many not-so-subtle hints in the past about Aleksander and I getting together. The last time I saw her, about two years ago, she'd made a rather unkind comment about how I was getting a bit old to not be married. Then she'd outright stated that Aleksander and I would have beautiful babies.

It wasn't that I was opposed to the idea, per se. I looked at Aleksander now as we passed the palace, towards Arthur's seat (though I had no intention of climbing up it). He was handsome, with his high cheekbones, square jaw, and Roman nose. He had blue eyes and blond hair that was always the perfect length yet somehow effortlessly messy - I wondered how long it took him to get it just so. He was about five inches taller than me, thought I was only 5' 5''.

If Aleksander and I had bumped into each other only a week ago I would have thought about asking him out. But... now that I had met Matthew, who seemed to be the antithesis of Aleksander. I didn't know. Matthew was taller, darker, just more. Aleksander was like the stereotypical golden retriever man - reliable, loyal, and very cute. But there was nothing exciting about him.

Then again, I'd just told Matthew to fuck off, essentially, so the comparison wasn't really fair.

***

I wasn't aware I was dreaming but something was definitely off. I wasn't sure what the tip-off was - the unfamiliar surroundings of a TV set? The fact that I was the only one there, sitting in the director's seat? Or the fact I was wearing nothing but some pale pink, lacy lingerie - totally impractical for a long day of filming.

Despite the oddness, it felt right. I had a job to do.

So, when Matthew sauntered onto the set it made perfect sense.

The room was dark, with one lone chair and table in the middle. I realised it was an interrogation room from a crime drama I had watched once (though they all looked quite similar, really). A single pendant light hung from the ceiling, illuminating a cone-shaped area around it, including the table-top. Matthew was standing on the other side from me.

He bent down a bit and spread his hands on the table. I could see the veins on them clearly, where they bulged out, framed on one side by a smattering of dark hair that ran up his wrist and tantalisingly disappeared under the sleeve of his crisp, white shirt.

"Cut," I called. "You're trying to get information out of her - not scare her!"

Matthew leaned back, his arms folding over his chest.

"How would you get information from me?" I asked, taking off my headset and throwing it down. I sounded exasperated as though we'd been filming this scene for hours.

Matthew didn't speak. One of his arms unfolded and swept in front of him, gesturing to the chair. He was inviting me to join the scene.

"Fine!" I sighed and stood up, joining him on the set. I still couldn't see his face in the darkness.

The chair was metal and cold against my bare legs. I could feel it press against my underwear too, which barely covered my pussy. The shock of the cool metal against the heat between my legs was torment.

Matthew didn't move.

Why isn't he doing the scene?

Another moment passed.

I began to fidget, my leg jiggling, my hands clutching the sides of my chair.

I still couldn't see his face - was he angry? Was he laughing at me? Was it because of what I was wearing?

Just as I was about to cross my arms in front of my chest to cover up my breasts, which were barely concealed by the flowery pattern of the lace, Matthew leaned forward again and spread his hands out.

The movement brought his face down again and I felt my mouth pop open as his eyes came into view.

He was acting - this wasn't his face. I didn't know how to describe it. The look in his eyes was so intense - so accusatory - as though nothing I ever said would satisfy him. It's as though, despite the fact I hadn't spoken yet, he knew I was going to lie.

Damn, he was a good actor.

"Just tell the truth, Maddy," his voice was low, and it came out as barely more than a rumble from his chest. "Can you do that for me, love?"

Unable to do anything else, I just nodded.

He stood again, taking his face away from me, and began to undo his cuffs.

Fuck me, I thought, watching as his fingers deftly unbuttoned the material and exposed his forearms. I watched the muscles flex and relax as he rolled his sleeve up to his elbow before repeating the action on the other side. Broad, slightly tanned, and covered in dark hair. I wanted to pet them. Or bite them. More than that, I wanted them around me, holding me.

I could feel the beginning tell-tale signs of how much I wanted him: the pounding of my pulse between my legs and the clenching, wet feeling of my pussy growing slick with need.

All from just the sight of his forearms. I really had it bad for this man.

I heard his shoes on the concrete floor as he rounded the table to stand beside me. I knew if I leaned back enough and joined him in shadows, I'd be able to see his face, but something told me not to. He was in charge. This was his scene. I would wait for his cue.

He stopped to my left and slowly crouched down until he was squatting beside me. His intense eyes were in line with mine once again.

"Do you want to fuck me?" His hand came up as he spoke, brushing my hair over my shoulder. The tips of his fingers grazed my collarbone as he moved, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Yes, I thought.

But I wasn't allowed to, though, was I? I wasn't supposed to be honest - that was the whole point of our relationship. To pretend we didn't want each other. To not do something terrible. To lie.

"No," I breathed. I had never sounded so unconvincing before.

Matthew tutted, even as he smirked. Of all of his expressions, that was the one I memorised the closest. I loved it. "Hm, now that's not the truth, is it?" He took my hand off the chair and turned it so it was palm up. Gently, he unfurled my fingers and ran his index finger over my palm. "You said you wouldn't lie."

I couldn't tear my eyes from his finger. He trailed it a little higher, brushing over my wrist before he smoothed his whole hand up my inner-forearm, pausing at my inner elbow to trace circles there.

Dear Lord, I felt my eyes flutter. I would never hold up against torture.

"Maddy," he murmured. His face was closer. Keeping hold of my elbow, he brought his other hand up to my hair and lifted it so he could see my ear. He leaned in and I felt the end of his nose trace the shell of my ear. He breathed gently before lowering his face to my jaw line. There he traced a line down to my chin and back again, dragging his nose and the barest brush of his lips, down my neck.

My head fell back. I couldn't help it. My neck had always been so sensitive. I was just lucky I didn't let out an embarrassing moan.

"Maddy, do you want to fuck me?" He asked again, though this time I could feel his lips dance over my pulse point. The hand on my elbow shifted, skimming over my ribs and settling on my stomach.

I whimpered in lieu of replying as the pounding between my legs started to get painful. Without intending to I'd started to rock my hips on the chair to gain some friction.

"I could help with that, you know," Matthew's head ducked out from my neck. His free hand grabbed my chin and turned my face to him. Our lips were centimetres away. "Just answer the question honestly." His eyes searched mine. The hand on my stomach began to slip lower, slowly, slowly, as he watched me and relished my expressions. "Do you want to fuck me?"

I tried not to say it. I really did. But when the first of his fingers reached the top of my panties and began to push them ever so slightly, the answer was ripped from me.

"Yes," I panted, tilting my hips up, searching for him, for more.

His eyes closed in delight, savouring my surrender.

"Good girl," he groaned, and -

I woke up suddenly with my alarm clock.

"No!" I gasped, clutching for my phone to shut off the ringing.

No, no, no, please don't do this to me.

I desperately shut my eyes and tried to go back there. I tried to force my mind to sink back into that place - that hot, erotic, mind-shattering place.

But it was no use. I could see glimpses of him and nothing more. I couldn't feel his hands on me, or feel his breath as he spoke, or smell his faint aftershave. It was over.

"Fuck," I groaned, moving as quickly as I could to grab my vibrator out of the top drawer.

I only had thirty minutes to get ready and leave for work and my pussy was drenched. I would never survive the day without an orgasm, though. If I didn't cum then and there I would do something embarrassing like asking my dad for Matthew's number, probably with some terrible, transparent excuse. I'd wreak havoc just to get him to fuck me. And I couldn't do that. Definitely not - not after Saturday.

So, I got myself off - unsatisfyingly and abruptly. It took the edge off but it wasn't the thing I needed.

There was a dick-sized hole in me, left by a cock I'd never fucked. I was so pathetic.

***

The week passed in somewhat of a blur. I was lucky that next week one of my projects was being published, so this week was a whirlwind of publicity, calls about printing, and collaborating with the author (who was shitting herself, quite frankly).

When Saturday night came around, I was tempted to cancel dinner with Aleksander's family and my dad. The only thing that stopped me was a quick phone call with my mum mid-week in which she made me promise to give her a play-by-play of exactly what happened. "Your dad will just say it was fine and that'll be it - you know what he's like!" she had complained. And I did, so I promised.

Luckily, dad had chosen a gastro-pub type of place so there wasn't much pressure to get dressed up. Even so, I wore a nice top, which dipped low in the back, and a long pleather skirt with my knee-high kitten-heeled boots. It was a favourite outfit of mine when the weather got a bit colder.

Isabel, Aleksander's mum, had booked a table. I met dad outside and we went in together to find them already there.

Isabel enthusiastically greeted us, Piotr, Aleksander's dad, was less enthusiastic. He rarely showed much emotion. He was a very serious sort of guy - I'd always been a bit intimidated by him.

We took our seats - Aleksander sat to my left, an empty chair to my right, and our parents sat across from us.

"So, Maddy, you're still single," Isabel said almost immediately. It wasn't a question.

I took a deep breath. Here we go.

"Yes," I smiled, grabbing a drinks menu. It was a cocktail kind of night. "I'm just focussing on work right now-"

"Oh, come now," she matched my smile. "You're amongst family, here! You don't need to make excuses."

"Mum," Aleksander spoke without looking up from his menu. I didn't see his face but there was a clear warning in his tone.

Isabel tsked. "Well, you're getting on in years, Maddy. It's a slippery slope to thirty. And Aleks - you're not seeing anybody either!"

A waiter came over. I wanted to thank him but I bit my tongue and instead just enjoyed the brief respite as we ordered drinks.

"Piotr," my dad jumped in as soon as drinks orders were taken. "How's things?"

Dad and Piotr began talking work - Piotr was a composer who had worked on many movies, that was how they had met. He was excellent, I had to admit. Sometimes I listened to his scores while I worked.

I listened a bit, though I wasn't invested in the conversation. That was until my dad stopped speaking mid-flow.

"Ah, there you are," my dad said, looking behind me. "Are you ever on time, Matt?"

I felt my face drop, just a touch, just enough to be noticeable when I snapped my head around to find Matthew who was currently walking over to our table.

"I'm not that late," he argued, taking the only open seat. The one next to me. I was sandwiched between Matt and Aleksander.

I tried my hardest to just breathe normally, but it wasn't working.

"Hello, Maddy," Matt murmured from next to me.

"Hi, Matt," I turned to him, trying to smile.

This place was far too small - too cramped and intimate. Our chairs were almost touching. I hadn't planned for this.

"You didn't need to dress up for me," his eyes dipped to my lips and back to my eyes.

I hadn't damn-well dressed up for him, I wanted to say, but he already knew that. The low back of my top was suddenly a terrible idea. I even had my hair up so there was nothing to hide behind. I felt really exposed.

"What are you doing here," I felt my smile tighten.

"Your father invited me," he said, leaning to grab a drinks menu. "I couldn't say no."

"Yes, actually you could," I countered. "It's not like they can make the series without you."

"Oh no," he chuckled gently and looked up from the menu, drawing me in with his gaze. Suddenly I remembered my dream. That fucking dream. "I couldn't say no because your father said he was facilitating a date between yourself and another man." His eyes flicked past me, taking in Aleksander with disdain.

My mouth popped open and I let out a short, breathy laugh. "You cannot be serious." This wasn't a date of any kind. I wondered what Isabel had said to my dad to get him to agree to come.

"Oh I am. Deadly serious, in fact," his eyes came back to mine. They softened in a very intimate way. "Trust me, it vexes me as much as it does you."

"I sincerely doubt that," I had to clench my jaw to stop myself from pointing out the hypocrisy of a married man being jealous I was on a date with a man far closer to my own age. Especially given the way we left things on Saturday.

"Maddy?" my dad interrupted. Thank fuck.

"Hm?" I turned back to the civilised people at the table.

"Isabel was just asking about Fiona's wedding - are you going?"

Fiona was my dad's half-sister. She was quite a bit younger, but still in her mid-forties. This was her third wedding and the first two were wild. I didn't remember the first one very well - I had only been eight - but the stories that my family told about it were very amusing. The second took place when I was seventeen and I remembered being plied with copious amounts of alcohol by 'well-meaning' family members. I had heard that aunt Fiona's second husband had to pay an exorbitant amount of money for repairs to the hotel. This next wedding was taking place in the Highlands, near Pitlochry. They'd rented a whole country estate for it, with no neighbours for miles around. I was very much looking forward to the carnage.

"As if I would miss it," I laughed, grabbing the mojito that had been placed in front of me and taking a long sip.

"Fiona is my half-sister," dad told Matthew who, I assume, looked puzzled. "She's actually a really big fan of yours, Matt."

"Oh?"

"In fact if I could convince you to come to the wedding, she'd be overjoyed. It's not until early December - would you consider? Hannah's welcome, too, of course."

My body stiffened - I wasn't sure if it was due to the mention of Matt's wife, or the idea of watching the two of them at an event. Being so close to Matt and yet unable to even talk to him. That would be disgustingly awful. "Dad, I'm sure Matt will be sick of the sight of Scotland within the next week, let alone December," I interrupted, trying to dissuade him.

"I'll need to check with my manager," Matt said diplomatically. "I'm not sure where I'll be in December."

"Of course! If you can make it, she'd be thrilled. I think she watched Big House about a hundred times when she was seventeen."

"Oh, I loved Big House," Isabel jumped in. "I was a bit older, admittedly, but it was so romantic. What age would you have been then, Matthew?"

"I was seventeen when we shot it," he told her before turning to a waiter and placing a drink order.

"You started acting when you were a teenager?" I asked politely.

"Yes. That was my first project actually. I took a bit of a break when I went to university."

"Aren't child stars supposed to be really fucked up?" I kept the bland, respectful smile on my face.

My dad hollered. I knew he'd find it funny. I was more surprised by Aleksander's chuckle. Isabel and Piotr gave small, polite laughs.

"I have heard that," Matthew allowed. A smirk crept up his lips. "And what age would you have been, then, Maddy?"

"One," I took another drink. Something about saying it out loud sounded really perverted. And I kind of liked it.

"What would you have been doing in '97, David?" Piotr asked, moving the conversation along.

Matt's drink arrived and he leaned back to let the waiter place it. His arm went over the back of my chair as he settled again.

I almost jumped. I could feel his thumb gently run over the skin that was exposed, roughly where my bra would normally be. Though, tonight I'd forgone the bra for the backless design of my top. My eyes were ready to roll into the back of my head. It was the sort of small touch that had driven me crazy in the dream.

I looked around the table, trying to make sure that no one was watching us. Dad, Isabel, and Piotr were conversing happily and Aleksander was very preoccupied with his phone.

"You alright?" Matt murmured, catching my gaze.

Looking at him, I was struck by just how much I had missed him this week. Though I'd been kept busy I'd still thought about him in my spare moments. I had wondered if he was struggling to stay away. I wondered if he'd gone to text me and then deleted the message. Or maybe he'd sent it but I didn't know since he was still blocked on my phone. I wondered if he'd actually missed me at all.

"I thought you had social anxiety," I tried not to look at him too closely. "What are you doing showing up to a dinner with a bunch of strangers?"

"I do," he nodded. His thumb continued to move - up and down, soothingly. "But I was left with a choice to either deal with it or never see you again." His eyes grew tight. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping. "I really needed to see you again."

I let the words sink in. I revelled in them, really. He still wanted me.

How tragic for both of us.

"You're not supposed to be here," I reminded him, choking embarrassingly on the words.

Oh no - I really couldn't cry in front of my dad. Hard pass.

"Excuse me," I coughed, standing and heading straight for the toilets. At least they were easily signed here.

In the ladies room, I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and stood at the mirror, quickly absorbing any tears that had gathered on my water line with the corner of the material.

Get a grip, I scolded myself.

But, I mean, bloody hell.

I needed to sort out my thoughts and form a strategy.

Ok. So...

He had come here tonight because he thought I was on a date - that was ludicrous and I was angry about it. It was too possessive, which was hypocritical, and it was unwarranted as there was nothing to 'possess' anyway.

We had left things on Saturday with an air of finality, I had felt. He was going to leave me alone and I was going to leave him alone.

But.

He was here because he missed me. The same way I missed him. That didn't help our situation but it felt like a lifeline. How terrible that I was comforted by the fact that I wasn't suffering alone.

Taking a deep breath, I looked myself in the eye in the mirror.

So, he missed you. So what? It doesn't change anything - you fancy each other, you can't have each other. End of. So go back upstairs and be beautiful and charming and make him feel like shit for showing up tonight when he shouldn't have. Maybe flirt with Aleksander a bit as well, really close the door on this whole affair.

No, not affair. Definitely not an affair. I meant 'matter'. Close the door on this whole matter.

I hated myself.

"Are you two seeing each other?" Matt asked as I exited the ladies room.

"Fuck sake, Matt," I jumped. "You need to stop following me to the toilet," I warned him. As I turned back towards the pub, he caught my wrist and pulled me after him.

"What-" I gasped as he dragged me further from the stairs. This particular pub was old, and the hallways were like a labyrinth. We stopped just a little bit away, hidden behind a corner, in front of a storage room.

"Are you?" He repeated, standing in front of me. I was cornered against the wall and the door.

"Does it matter?" I arched an eyebrow at him. When he made no move to reply, I sighed. "No, we're not. He's a family friend."

"Are you going to start seeing him?"

Now I was livid. "Yes. In fact, I was going to invite him back to my flat tonight for the wildest fuck of his life. Maybe we'll go all weekend - he's only thirty-one, after all. Probably has a bit more stamina than you-"

"Oh, I have plenty of stamina, Maddy. Do you want me to show you?" He crowded in closer and I snapped my mouth shut.

"Hm?" He murmured, standing closer again. My back was pressed against the corner now, his front pressed up against mine. "Is that what you want?"

"I-" I gasped. Fuck yes - yes, it was. I wanted to pick up where the dream left of. I was ready for it, I could feel my pussy clench just from the pressure of his body against mine.

"All week I've been wondering what it'd be like, you know," he put his hands on my waist. Reflexively my hands shot out to rest on his forearms. "If I'd be able to take my time when I first get you undressed. Or if a red haze would come over me and I'd just need to get my cock inside you as quickly as I could." His hands slid up, his thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts through the thin material of my top. I moaned shamelessly - nowhere near as cool as I had played it in the dream - and he grinned. "You'd be wet enough, I can see that already."

Matt's hands slid up over my breastbone, my shoulders, on to my neck. My hands fell to his chest, feeling the subtle muscular shape of him.

"But we're good, aren't we?" He mumbled, dipping his nose into my hair and breathing in, smelling me. "We stayed away from each other all week. My cock was very unhappy, the poor thing suffered terrible abuse because I couldn't stop thinking of you. Can you imagine?"

I didn't even try to stop myself imagining. Matthew on a hotel bed, naked, with his hard cock in his fist as he pumped it up and down, up and down. Matthew groaning my name as hot come spilled out, landing on his chest hair, his stomach, running down his knuckles.

"Just once," he breathed, his hands in my hair, tilting my face up so he could see it. "One kiss and we can call it quits. We'll stay away from each other; we'll leave each other alone."

"We've tried that," I breathed. "Now look at us."

His forehead touched mine and I breathed him in. He was so close to me.

"Just once?" His eyes held mine.

I watched him. I wanted to say no.

But I really wanted to say yes.

"A kiss isn't going to be enough," I warned him.

He heard the truth in that statement. I could tell by the way his eyes darkened. "I know."

Now that we'd acknowledged it, we couldn't claim any innocence. There was no moment of passion, no drunken mistake. This was two adults making a conscious decision to cross the line.

A moment passed. Our eyes stayed locked, we just held each other as our breath mingled.

At the smallest hint of a nod, his lips crashed into mine.

I felt like I was drowning; kissing him was so consuming.

His lips were soft under mine and I moaned as I felt his fingers spread across my scalp, sending shivers down my spine.

I curved up into him, my hands holding his face then slipping around his neck, trying to hold him as close as possible.

Matt pressed me hard against the corner of the wall and the door, forcing our bodies to contour to one another.

His mouth opened gently, pulling my lips apart as it did. His tongue came out to gently brush against mine. That's what did it.

A dam broke and suddenly this romantic, loving kiss turned feral.

I groaned into his mouth. His hands left my face, travelling downwards. One hooked around my knee, bringing it up so he was cradled between my legs. The other grabbed my waist and brought me forward.

I thanked everything that was Holy that I'd worn a skirt. The thin leather slipped up my legs and I felt the hard ridge of his jeans press against me through my sheer tights and lacy panties.

He rocked his hips into me, pressing his hard cock against my soft folds. I gasped and pressed back. I could have come from just that, and I knew it, so I rocked my hips against him again and again as he pulled away from my face and began to kiss my neck. His tongue laved at the skin just below my jaw and I cried out.

A hand left me, only to rejoin between our bodies. His long fingers rubbed at my tights and I tried my best to rock into them, to get myself to that point I had been so cruelly denied during my dream.

With a groan of irritation, his other hand joined the first between my thighs and I felt and heard my tights rip. He pulled them apart and suddenly his hand was on me, pushing my panties to the side. He swirled his finger tips through my folds, cursing when he felt the wetness that had gathered there for him.

I called out so loudly when he grazed my clit that he had to cover my mouth with his other hand. I still gasped into his skin, grateful for the barrier. As one finger searched for my opening, probing before slipping inside and pumping, churning the slick that was dripping out of me, the heel of that hand was pressing against my clit, rhythmically working itself up and down. A second finger quickly joined the first and I was fuller. Full enough for my eyes to roll back in my head.

It was so good - too good. He rubbed his fingertips deep inside me, massaging the walls of my pussy. I was going to come. Fuck I was going to come soon.

"I want to feel it," He groaned into my hair. His hips were moving in time with his hand and I knew he wished it was his cock inside me rather than his fingers. "I want to feel how you clamp down on my fingers. I want to know how desperate you are for me, Maddy. I need to know what your body was doing this week, thinking about me, missing me. Come on my fingers. Come all over my hand."

His hand left my face, only to be replaced by his lips again. As soon as his tongue met mine I started to come.

I cried out into his mouth, my hands clutching his shirt for dear life. My pussy flexed and spasmed in waves of unbearable pleasure. His fingers still moved, but gentler, and slowly, wringing out another clench of muscles each time they did.

I'd never come standing before and almost instantly my legs began to shake as though they were about to give out. He kept me up, his body pressing me into the wall.

I was panting into his mouth. I was sure I'd ruined my make-up - my eyeliner and mascara would be everywhere with how I had shut my eyes and kept them scrunched closed as I came.

He kissed me again, sweeter this time, as he removed his hand from between my legs. I was expecting him to spin me around and fuck me against the wall. But a door back towards the toilets opened and closed, pulling us both out of the fog instantly. We both went rigid as we listened to the footsteps fade away.

My face must have mirrored his own, but somehow his expression hurt me. Shock, horror, a realisation that if we had been caught it wouldn't have been a simple case of running away. They could have recognised him. We could have...

I felt a fat tear skim down my cheek. I didn't bother moving to wipe it away - there were more coming.

I cried for me. For him. For his poor, stupid wife. For the fact that this was all doomed and yet I couldn't tear myself away.

I cried for the fact I'd never felt like this for anyone and yet I knew I shouldn't. I didn't want this, yet some small, very sick part of me was desperate for it. I wanted Matt so badly that I thought my brain might have irrevocably changed just for him. That was the only way to make sense of it.

"No, Maddy, love, please-" he moved his arms to hold me to him.

"No!" I cried out, before frantically pulling my skirt down and moving past him and back to the ladies toilet. There was one other young woman there but she didn't say anything as I stood at the sink, sobbing.

The door to the toilets opened and Matt came in. "What are you doing?" I asked in disbelief.

The other woman took that opportunity to put her make-up away and leave.

Matt didn't say anything. He just quickly washed his hands. I watched him dry them with disbelief before he came back over and gathered me in his arms. In seconds I was crying again.

"It's alright to be upset," he mumbled into the top of my head. "But I'm not going to leave you alone while you feel like this. Not when I caused it."

I clung to his shirt. I felt so safe, so coddled, with his arms around me, his chin resting on top of my head. He kissed it then he pulled away a bit and kissed my forehead, dragging his lips away slowly. I let out a whimper at the contact. I couldn't believe how little we'd actually touched each other and yet I felt this much for him.

He pulled away further and looked down at me.

"They're going to notice we're still gone," I sniffled, wiping my tears away and pulling away from him. Looking in the mirror I could see that I'd made quite a mess. I was going to have to tidy myself up. Luckily the lighting upstairs was forgiving.

Matt nodded. "I'll go ahead first. I'll say you've run into someone you know."

I agreed. I would need a minute to fix my make-up.

He hovered at the doorway. "Once we're done here - upstairs, I mean - you and I are going to talk. A real, serious, sit-down talk, Maddy."

I nodded. "You should go, now."

Matt went upstairs.

***

I didn't know how I got through the rest of that evening.

There were drinks and food. There was a lot of talking. Some reminiscing - my dad seemed hell-bent on recounting my whole childhood to Matt and embarrassing me as much as possible. Isabel and Aleksander joined in when they could. I'd done a lot of embarrassing shit as a child, after all. It would have been sweet if Matt and I were together. If he was my boyfriend and this was them meeting him for the first time it would be endearing. But, as it was, this was as close as we'd likely get to the standard 'get the baby pictures out' that most couples experienced.

Too soon, and yet also after an age, it was time for the bill.

"Maddy, do you want to share an uber?" My dad asked me. I had rehearsed an answer.

"Actually, I'm going to meet up with some friends," I smiled blandly. "They're near South Bridge, so I'll just walk."

"Walk?!" Isabel coughed. The idea was apparently heinous to her. "It's after ten, Maddy. And it's so dark out."

"I'll walk you," Matt offered. "I'm headed that way."

"Look after her, will you, Matt?" My dad asked, clapping him on the shoulder as they got ready to go.

And with hugs, goodbyes, and promises to speak soon out of the way, I was left alone with Matt.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked, as soon as they were out the door.

"Confused," I replied. I omitted the part about being on cloud nine after that orgasm.

"I want to explain everything. I need us to have this whole thing aired out. We don't need to go in endless circles of how wrong this is or what we do or don't want. I just want us to talk."

I nodded. That sounded good.

"Have you ever had a relationship that's fizzled out?"

Matt watched me as I hesitated, wondering where he was going with this. "Like when you lose the spark?"

"Yes, exactly." He looked at me so intensely it was clear this was important to him.

I nodded. "Yeah, once or twice."

"Now imagine that happened but you're already married - what would you do?"

I shook my head, not knowing the answer. I watched my fingers as they spun the stem of a wine glass on the table. When my relationships fizzled it was always early on. I'd never lost the spark with someone I was in love with. "I'd probably try to re-ignite it somehow. I don't know exactly how, but I'd put in the effort."

"Good. Now imagine your spouse doesn't think there's anything wrong. They're happy in a relationship with no spark."

"Ok..."

"What do you do then?"

"Couples counselling?" I shrugged, guessing.

"Ah, but they're happy, so they refuse. Now what?"

I consider it. It would be a tough spot - stuck between complacency and loneliness. "I'd weigh up if I was happy enough staying like that for the rest of my life, or if I'd rather see what else was out there. Then I'd either stay with them, unhappy, or risk being unhappy alone."

I watched the tendons in his neck ripple as he swallowed. "Well, that's where I am."

I paused, absorbing this information. "You're unhappy in your marriage?"

"I've never been happy in my marriage, Maddy. We got married because my parents wanted us to - I was in my late thirties and it seemed like a good idea. Hannah and I were friends. We never really had a spark to begin with, but we started dating-"

"I really don't want to hear the details, Matt. I'm sorry but I can't just now." I shook my head, looking around the pub and anywhere but him. It was cowardly and selfish but so was having an affair.

Matt looked at me, his pale blue eyes carefully trained on my face. "Ok. Long story short, then. It's like you said - you weigh up the pros and cons. I have seriously considered divorce in the past. Except now I don't have to guess about whether or not there's something else out there." I held his gaze, untrusting - both of him and myself. He wasn't telling me that he was going to leave his wife, that was clear. But he also wasn't saying he was staying with her. It was a very unsatisfying nothing. "The way I feel when you're around is..." he paused. I jumped as he threw out his hands and made a tortured noise. "Ugh - it's unparalleled, Maddy! I think about you all of the time. I want to be around you all of the time. I am dreading when filming stops and suddenly I don't have excuses to see you anymore. This past week was genuinely horrific."

"So, what?" I said, feeling courageous. "We just have an affair?"

"I know how that sounds. I understand - believe me. It's not something I take lightly. But I don't think I can stay away from you anymore. More than that - I don't want to."

I took a deep breath before taking his hand in mine and kissing the back of it. I didn't even look around to see if anyone was watching.

We'd already acknowledged the truth downstairs - it wasn't enough. One time would never be enough, not with the way we felt. I was obsessed with him and he felt the same for me. I hadn't been crying because I was unsure. I was crying because I was being a bad person and I had no intention of stopping.

"We'll be discrete," I said aloud, though whether I was speaking to him or myself I wasn't sure. It was supposed to be reassuring. Because this was happening. We were happening. We'd just need to make sure that as few people got hurt as possible.

***

We didn't spend the night together that night. We did unblock each other's numbers and begin a new chat, though. Matt was needed for a 4am call on Sunday morning to film, so sleep was essential. We made plans to meet at some point the following week.

It was early on Sunday morning. After our walk, Isla and I had gone back to her flat where Craig and Emma were recovering from a night out with some old work pals. They both looked seriously worse for wear.

Emma was in the kitchen area, sitting on at the counter and eating cereal. I joined Craig on the couch while Isla sat on the floor, as always.

The TV was on a news channel. A reporter stood in a warm country - I wasn't sure where - and was talking about the number of private jets that had arrived for the wedding.

"What's this?" I asked, puzzled by the scope of the reporting. I hadn't seen any weddings get more than a few seconds mention on the news in a while.

"It's that tit, Henry Morgan, the billionaire," Craig told me. His voice was gravelly and I marvelled at the fact that he'd been out until 4am, as Isla had told me earlier. "He's getting married in Italy and environmentalists are going crazy about the number of private jets his pals are using."

"He's disgusting," Isla wrinkled her nose. "I just don't understand why anyone would marry him. He's been married twice already. Surely he knows she must just be in it for the money."

"I suppose unless she also comes from money," I shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe. But he really publicly fucked over his first wife. He doesn't deserve his happily ever after."

"I don't know," I smiled sadly. "I think most people deserve some sort of happy ending."

"You've been reading too many romance novels," Emma snorted derisively into her cereal.

"Fuck off, Emma," I replied, trying not to take notice of her. She'd been getting more pissy with my over the past week - whether that was ignoring me in the group chat or sending little barbs. I was getting sick of it.

"Oh, look who grew a pair," she hummed. Apparently even hung-over she was willing to fight with people

"Maybe you should too," I turned to her, adding venom into my voice. "Honestly, you've been so fucking condescending for the past few weeks and you've been hiding behind the group chat. If you have something to say then just say it."

Emma's eyes widened and she smiled. I didn't like the look on her face. It was the shocked delight of someone who suddenly had a reason to fight. Like I'd thrown the first punch and now I was fair game. The thing about Emma was she had a seriously nasty side if you were brave enough to look for it.

"You're accusing me of not being upfront? Are you actually kidding, Maddy?" She put her breakfast down and leaned forward in her seat. "You've been pining after a married man for weeks and you've made it everyone else's business. No matter how many times we've told you that it's a stupid. Fucking. Idea." She punctuated each word with a clap. "You ran out on us last week and just showed back up in the group chat without so much as an apology. You wouldn't answer anyone's questions about Matthew this week either. No one else is willing to say this to you - and trust me, we've all been talking about it - but you're not just pining after him anymore."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I raised my voice at her.

"It means we all think you're fucking the guy!"

My cheeks burned like I'd been slapped.

"Someone back me up here," Emma gestured wildly, looking to Craig and Isla.

I turned to find them purposefully looking anywhere but me.

"Isla?" I breathed her name.

Please, I begged her silently. Please still be on my side.

As though she could hear me, she looked up. "I swear, Maddy, I love you no matter what. But yeah, I think you've done more than you're letting on."

Craig took a deep breath and walked out the room, clearly deciding this wasn't a conversation he needed to be a part of. Particularly in the state he must have been in.

"Do you honestly think I'd do that? You think so little of me?" I ignored that moral voice in my head that reminded me they were right. By asking those sorts of questions, I was trying to manipulate them. The lying had already begun.

Isla looked so uncomfortable, I wanted to cry for her. "I don't think you're a bad person," she was interrupted by Emma mumbling 'I do' from behind me. "But you are a very emotionally-driven person and I think if you developed strong enough feelings for Matthew then, yes. I think you might cross the line."

My mouth opened, trying to form the words I couldn't find. "I haven't," I eventually whispered.

"Maybe you haven't shagged," Emma countered. She'd gotten up - though I didn't turn to her, I could hear her bustling about in the kitchen. I was too busy watching Isla for any scrap of... something. Something that would make this all a bit better. "But you've done something. It could be an emotional affair or maybe you've kissed, I don't know. But I don't want to hear anymore shite about how it's just you both admiring each other from afar because it's not."

Emma walked out of the room. Her bedroom door slammed behind her.

There was silence for a minute. I didn't try to defend myself. Not to Isla.

"She's just mad because she's been cheated on before," Isla mumbled, getting up and moving to my side on the couch. "She'll come around. But you should probably apologise for running out during monopoly - she was really angry about that."

I felt like I needed to cry but somehow that felt really wrong. It was like I didn't deserve to cry. I had made my bed and I was lying right in the middle of it. I wasn't the wronged party, so I shouldn't be the one upset.

"You can tell me," Isla whispered. She'd brought her knees up in front of her on the couch, hugging them to her chest. As she'd done since we were in school, she had the tip of her thumb between her teeth, worrying at it with her teeth. "I swear to God, Maddy, I won't judge you. But I feel like I just don't understand what's going on with you and I want to try."

"There's not much to tell," I laughed miserably. Mirroring her, I brought my knees up. "Emma's right," I began, looking at my stupid socks with the tacos on them. I omitted just how right Emma was. "Every time I see him it's like..." I searched for the right words. What was it? "It's like he's the centre of the universe. All I can think about is him - what he's doing, if he's near me, if he's thinking about me. I feel so unbelievably good when he looks at me. And if I make him smile? Jesus, it's a high I can't describe."

"What do you talk about?" She asked. She looked concerned. I didn't know how to tell her to not be worried.

"Nothing much," I answered honestly. "We tease each other about stupid stuff. We talk about our days and what we got up to. We talk about things we like and don't like. We talk a lot about hypothetical situations or what we'd do in ethical dilemmas - which, yes, I get the irony of."

"Does he," she paused. "Does he talk about his wife?"

I frowned and bit the inside of my cheek, before nodding. "A couple of times. He's not spinning some story that she's terrible and he hates being near her, or anything. He's said that he's unhappy and has been for a while. Just-"

I looked at Isla, stopping myself. "I won't judge, Maddy," she reminded me. "I'm just genuinely curious."

I took a deep breath in. "He says things have fizzled with her. They have nothing in common, and the spark has died. He said that he's tried to bring it back but he's not sure she's interested. He says that I bring something out in him and that he wants to be around me. He told me that now he knows me, it's like he knows that there's something better out there."

Isla nodded slowly, pursing her lips, but I saw her eyes tighten at that last comment. "Can I be honest?" She asked, still looking concerned.

"Sure," I mumbled into my knees, beginning to pull at the tops of my socks.

"I think you're going to get hurt in this, Maddy," Isla warned me. She pushed her hair back from her face. "It sounds like every other affair I've heard of. Someone is bored in their relationship but not unhappy enough to leave. They meet someone who makes them feel excited and alive so they start an affair. Then the affair partner wants something more, or the spouse finds out, and everything just blows up in everyone's faces."

"I know, Isla," I agreed with her. I really did agree. "That's why I haven't crossed that line."

If I defined the line as actual sex, I could convince myself that I wasn't bare-faced lying to my closest and oldest friend.

Isla didn't look away from me.

"Do you love him?"

I swallowed. I had been hoping she wouldn't ask that question. "I don't know. It's only been a few weeks. It's either love, infatuation, or a level of lust I've never experienced before."

"But it's something big, yes? You have serious feelings for him?"

"Yes," I answered honestly.

"Ok," Isla nodded. "Ok." She seemed to think about something for a second before she stood up and grabbed Craig's mug from the table. I sat in silence as she cleaned it out in the kitchen and set it on the drying rack. "Ok," she repeated. I turned to find her leaning against the counter. "Here's my thoughts: I don't know his wife - Hannah, is it?" I nodded. "Right, I don't know Hannah. I owe Hannah nothing. I do know you and I love you. I don't condone what's happening here, Maddy, and I need you to know that. I'll stand by you and support you - I'll be there through this whole shit show - but I think you need to seriously cut him off. I mean, cold-turkey, as in never see him or speak to him again."

The thought made me feel a little sick. Was I capable of that? Yes. But knowing myself and the break-ups I'd been through in the past, this felt different. This would take a long time to get over. It killed me, knowing that I'd spend so long trying to get past Matthew when I hadn't even really had him in the first place.

"Failing that," Isla looked a little sick, herself. "You need to sort this out with him. What is it? Where is it going? Does he just want a quick fuck and then he's going to run off, or does he feel as strongly for you as you do for him? If he does just want sex then that's up to you. But if I know you as well as I think I do, and I'm pretty sure I do, then you won't be interested in that."

"No, absolutely not," I agreed, shaking my head emphatically. Part of the reason I'd avoided the conversation in the first place was because I was afraid that was what Matthew wanted. If it was, I'd have to walk away, and I wasn't ready to do that yet.

"Good. If it's real for him then tell him he needs to end things with his wife. If he wants new and exciting then he can have it, but he can't have both. It's not fair on you or Hannah." I winced at her name. I hated hearing her name. Too much guilt and shame attached to it.

"He-" I hesitated in telling her this. I was pretty sure I knew what she was going to say. "He has mentioned leaving her before."

"Not good enough," Isla replied resolutely. "He either does or he doesn't - there's no in-between, Maddy. If he wants you he can produce evidence of at least a separation. He can move out or start the divorce process. There has to be something. Because if he doesn't do that, then he isn't choosing you."

The words cut through me.

"Right," I agreed, though I wasn't looking at Isla anymore.

She was entirely right. I wholeheartedly agreed. It was the exact same advice I would give her if our roles were reversed. I could never watch her put a man before herself if he wasn't obviously choosing her.

Yet when it was me? I was loathe to follow through.

But it had to be done.