Page 7

Micki

What the hell are we doing? I’m sitting in front of my laptop waiting for the video call from Mathéo. That question has been running circles in my head for a few days now. This feels so real. But it’s not. It can’t be. It never will be and I will end up sweeping up the pieces of my broken heart again. I don’t even dare to think about putting it back together. And yet, I’m not ending it. I can’t. I long for those vulnerable blue eyes the moment I close my laptop at night. What is he doing to me? And why is he interested in me?

I know Nika’s stories. I needed to know what happened back then, but I still don’t get it. What Nika told me doesn’t fit at all with the Mathéo I’m getting to know a little more every night. My Mathéo is not arrogant and inconsiderate and hurtful. He’s exactly the opposite.

But I also sense that he’s completely out of his comfort zone. This with me is new for him. I don’t know what he wants from me, but I’m not sure if he even knows himself. My laptop beeps, the unmistakable sound when a video call comes in and I answer so quickly that I roll my eyes at myself in embarrassment.

“Hey...”

And then there it is, his deep, soft voice, which no longer carries any of the aloofness that resonated in every note at the wedding.

“Hello, good to see you.” And with just that one sentence, his eyes light up and the smile on his lips makes his face so incredibly soft. Almost boyish and innocent in a way that he’s definitely not.

Which he is totally aware of, because he constantly feels the need to justify what he has done over the last decade. But he doesn’t have to, not with me. I don’t care what he did before we met. What matters to me is the here and now.

“Do you want to play?”

“Absolutely!” Mathéo’s answer comes quickly and without thinking.

“Okay, here we go. New question. How was your first kiss?”

Mathéo raises his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“Can you even remember that far back? Guess you started early.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying that, but Mathéo’s reaction is not what I expected. I was sure it was going to be some super manly “I got the girl” story, but no.

“Before I had my first kiss, I had this idea that kissing was something totally special, but it wasn’t. The girl was cute. Not really my type, but she just sat on my lap, overly eager. And I was curious too.”

“How old were you?” Maybe Mathéo was just too young and couldn’t handle it.

“It was shortly after my thirteenth birthday. I felt like I was already a bit late, all the other boys were talking, and I wanted to belong. But it wasn’t my thing.”

“And how is it now?” I shouldn’t ask any more questions, but somehow I can’t let it go. Mathéo shrugs his shoulders a little helplessly.

“I still don’t get why everyone makes such a big deal about kissing. But there’s no way to avoid it, so I go with it.”

Is he serious? “You’ve never had a kiss that made you feel like life around you stopped for a moment?”

Mathéo thoughtfully pulls down the corners of his mouth shaking his head. “No, never.”

“Then you haven’t kissed the right person yet, believe me.”

“And you’ve already kissed the right person?”

The dull ache in my chest is proof that it still hurts more than I’d like, and I unconsciously press my fingers into my breastbone. “That’s what I thought, yes. But he saw it differently.”

“Maybe it was good for something… that it didn’t work out.” I look for something playful or mischievous in Mathéo’s eyes, something to take the weight off his words, but there’s nothing. He is open and vulnerable, as always when he’s with me. “How was your first kiss?”

The laughing snort slips out so quickly, I have no chance holding it back. Not a sexy sound at all, but Mathéo is laughing. “That good, huh?”

“Well, the circumstances were not ideal. We played Truth or Dare, and I had to kiss a girl. Granted, she knew what she was doing, but that was the only good thing about the kiss. I learned a lot. Among other things, that girls aren’t my thing.”

“And when did you have your first mind-blowing kiss?” I wasn’t expecting any questions.

“Much later and with a boy I liked a lot. We were both a bit awkward because we were inexperienced, but that didn’t really matter. We took the time we needed and just did what felt right for the both of us. That was cool.”

Mathéo’s gaze is fixed on something I don’t see, chewing nervously on his lower lip. His forehead wrinkles. “Why did things end with you two? It sounds so perfect.”

A smile flits across my face, as it always does when I think of him. “We were terribly young. At some point, it just didn’t fit anymore. But we’re still friends.”

“Did you love him?”

“Back then, I would have said yes. Today I’d say we had this typical little first love thing. The way it is when you’re 15 or 16. Head over heels in love, far too many feelings, and no idea what to do with them. You know what I mean.”

A little helpless, Mathéo shrugs his shoulders and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. I don’t quite understand his reaction, but I wait. He usually starts talking when he has the time he needs.

“No, I don’t know what you mean. Don’t look at me like that. I... I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. What does it say about a person when they’ve never been in love at 27?”

“Just that you haven’t met the right person yet. Maybe you just need a little more time to get to know someone properly before you fall in love. There are lots of possibilities. You said earlier that you have a type. Tell me about it. Maybe you’re super picky too.” Let’s face it, if you look like him, you have every damn right to be picky, but if his type is too specific, he might not have that much choice.

Then there’s movement on my screen. For a brief moment, all I can see are arms and white fabric and when everything stills. Mathéo is lying in his bed–shirtless. Fuuuck. He is so hot. I’d do anything to lick my tongue over that six-pack and play with his nipples. But my feeling is that’s exactly his problem. All the other women just want to get fucked by the hot guy, there is no room for the sensitive man behind the attitude, and I feel sorry for him. I quickly look for his eyes on the screen again.

“Do you still want to hear what my type is, or would you prefer to look a bit longer?” Mathéo tries to sound light and relaxed, but he doesn’t quite succeed.

“Sorry, I was distracted for a moment. That’s definitely not an everyday view for me. Go on, I’m all ears.”

A slight smile plays around his lips as he begins to speak. “It’s actually less of a visual thing. Well, okay, it’s that too, but there’s more than looks. Something that’s hard to find, though, at least for me. I... um... I like tall, slim women. I like it when I don’t feel like I have to get down on my knees just to kiss them. When they are eye level with me. Not just physically, but also in the way they talk to me, handle me. I like it when someone challenges me, keeps me on my toes. Most women want to have me and say what they think I want to hear. They want to please me, and completely lose their own personality in it. That’s okay for a one-night stand, but a hell-no for anything more.”

Women...