Dating-ish (Knitting in the City #6)(43)

"Oh!" Matt's look of suspicion quickly transformed into playfulness. "Are we going to discuss safe words? Mine is Turing test."

"No. Not safe words. I wanted to thank you." I laughed at him again, shaking my head. I loved how funny he was, and it struck me how wrong my first-and second, and third-impression of him had been. If I hadn't forced him to share his data with me, I might still be thinking of him as arrogant, petulant, and wooden. But he wasn't those things, not at all. He'd definitely grown on me with repeated exposure.

"Thank me? For what?" His clever eyes danced.

"For coming with me to the cuddle studio. I appreciated having someone there." I shook my head at the imprecise and diluted nature of my words, and knew I needed to correct myself. "Actually, that's not true, I appreciated having you there. I was thinking about the story, and of course I'll still need your help with that, but after the series is over, I'm hoping that you and I can continue to be friends."

Matt's playfulness waned as I spoke, his expression growing mystified, then suddenly sober, as though he'd just solved a puzzle.

"You're friend-zoning me," he said, and I got the impression he spoke the words as soon as he thought them.

I reared back. "What?"

"No. It's fine. I'm just . . ." A deep V formed between his eyebrows, the adorable wrinkle appearing as he pulled his gaze from mine, turning his body in profile, and stared at my ottoman.

I waited a few seconds, paralyzed by what he'd said. Did he not want to be friend-zoned? Did he want more than-



       
         
       
        

. . . No.

No.

. . . Maybe?

My heart jumped to my throat and a hot shock of sensation tightened my chest, heated my neck and cheeks. Could he-did he- I mean-was it possible that this guy, who eschewed romantic relationships with such fervor, was interested? In me?

And was I interested in him?

I knew I was attracted to him, but-

"Matt?"

"No. It's fine." He shook his head, not looking at me, and chuckled, like this was funny. "I, um, have become a student of human nature, since I began this project, and this-" he gestured between us, still not looking at me, "-is a classic friend-zone maneuver. I don't have a more technical word for it. It's very typical of what we've seen in our lab. Fascinating, really."

He turned back to me and his smile was small but easy as he picked up his pie plate and scraped at the remnants, forking a few crumbs into his mouth.

I wasn't convinced. Something was off.

"Matt, excuse me if I'm confused, but didn't you say last week that you're not interested in a long-term relationship?"

"Yes. That's correct. I'm not," he responded lightly, but his expression was looking increasingly brittle.

"Then what is the-"

My phone rang, effectively cutting off my sporadic thoughts. Gritting my teeth, I glanced at the screen and-seeing who it was-muttered, "Shit."

"Who is it?"

I didn't answer right away, instead leaning forward and sending the call to voicemail. This was the fourth time he'd called in two days, but once again, he didn't leave a message. What can he want?

Gathering a deep breath, I admitted, "That was David. My ex-boyfriend."

Matt hesitated and I felt his eyes on me, probing. "Are you two reconciling?"

"No," I said, with force. "No. He's engaged, actually. His new girlfriend-I mean, she's not new, she's his fiancée-just sent me an invitation to their engagement party a few weeks ago and I haven't responded."

Matt blew out a long, audible breath. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, finally meeting his gaze, knowing I looked confused. "Yes. At least, I thought I was."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, when I got the invite I didn't expect to feel so much about it. It blindsided me, but I thought I'd get over it. I'm happy for him, them. I am. But it-I just-I don't know how to describe it."

"Do you still talk to him?" Matt's tone was friendly enough, but also felt edged with cautious objectivity. "Have you met her?" 

"No. We stopped talking when we broke up." I gave Matt a self-deprecating shrug. "I got dumped."

He flinched at that, just a very small movement, his pity making me roll my eyes at myself.

"It's fine. Everyone gets dumped eventually."

"What does he do?"

"He's a chef."

Matt made a face. "Why would you need to date a chef? You can cook."

That made me chuckle. "I didn't date a chef, Matt. I dated a person."