Ian Matters

Sal hasn't spoken a word since the happening at the grocery store; not when we headed to the check out, not when we walked to the car and loaded it, not even on the way home. Not until now, when we're waiting for the elevator, and she doesn't turn to me when she says, low, “Don't get involved in my love life.”

“It's not a love life it's a sex life.” I correct, “I'm not going to apologize for giving the guy your damn number, he was hot. I mean, are you just going to fuck Frank for the rest of your life? Even he's got to get a girlfriend at some point.”

There's a split second where I look at her and think I can see gears turning, a bit of contemplation, you know? But I'm wrong because it's just anger and right when she's about to snap at me the elevator comes and the doors open up before us.

She's glaring at me, I smile, and when we both turn to the elevator I nearly drop all the goddamn groceries I'm carrying because the brown eyes.

Sal boards the goddamn thing like nothing, like he's not even fucking there, and I don't expect her to notice since she's probably had enough of men for the day after the guy from the grocery store, but she doesn't realize it's him. Why would she? I've only ever described him before and they may have been exaggerations – but all the same, it's him.

Sal snaps fingers in front of my face and I realize she's in the elevator door way, holding the damned thing open, glaring at me some more. The god behind her checks his watch. “Will you board the damn elevator, you idiot, or are you going to take the damn stairs?”

I board the elevator like a damn machine, and try not to stare at him. Sal is too angry to notice.

He gets off on the fifth floor and doesn't say a damn word and I let out a breath like I've been holding it in the whole damn time. Sal pinches the bridge of her nose, I've put her in a bad mood. My breathing is annoying her. Everything I'm probably doing is annoying her, in actuality. I'm too much in shock to care. “Sal.” It comes out quick and dry like I can't breathe, she doesn't look at me. “That-- that was him.”

That get's her attention; her head snaps at me like I'm insane. “Excuse me?”

My mouth is salivating more then usual, I swallow hard, “That was the guy.” I tell her, “The guy from the elevator that I was talking about, you know, the really--”

“Shut the fuck up.” She demands, annoyed, “What the fuck is a matter with you?”

“What?”

“Get your fucking shit together.” She snaps, “It's just a fucking guy, who gives a shit?”

She's definitely mad at me. The elevator doors open on our floor.

“You're acting like some little fucking virgin shit.” She bites as she storms off the elevator, I give an incredulous look after her.

“I'm not a virgin.”

“Then stop acting like one, fucking idiot!”

That, as I would come to realize later on, was the best advice anyone would ever give me. Or Sal, at least.