Casual Affair

How do I begin to explain Matt Diggory?

Matt Diggory is most definitely not flawless. His hair was in a perpetual state of disarray, stuck up in odd angles that were not quite acute but passed off as attractive. He did a car commercial back home once—a really low-budget awkward shindig as a favor to an old friend whose dad owned the shop and needed a local celebrity to sell more Kia’s.

He claims his favorite movie is Die Hard, but his most worn out DVD is actually The Lion King; he even keeps his old VHS on a shelf next to his bed at home, acting like it’s “no big deal.” But one time Louis accidentally knocked into it and Matt went into a rage, so we all knew it was more the equivalent to a pretty big fucking deal.

Once on a plane ride across the coast he was seated next to Gwenyth Paltrow. She politely implied he was weird.

And one time, soon after the guys asked me to join the band, I punched Matt in the face. It was awesome.

But in all seriousness, Matt was a pretty swell guy. He was the one I always went to first with any new lyrics, and he was the one who threatened to kick my ex-boyfriend Avery in the nuts when he found out the dick had been sticking it everywhere but in me. I loved Matt, really I did, but our friendship had steadily strained ever since Teal entered the picture.

I still remember the day he introduced her to us—I actually laughed out loud for a solid minute before realizing he was serious when he called her his girlfriend. Greg and Louis both fell into some stunned silence, torn between calling his bluff and trying to be polite to the scantily clad, trucker-hat wearing brunette whose tits were emblazoned with the words “JUICY FRESH” for some reason.

I hadn’t been able to take him seriously ever since.

So when he pulled me aside during the third week of tour while the other guys continued on to the bus, snacks and sodas in tow from our pit stop, I faced him with a bemused smile, wondering what he could possibly want that he couldn’t address in front of the guys.

“You need to stop,” he said. His tone was firm, snippy even, and it made my blood boil and stomach churn in embarrassed anger at the possibilities.

Stop what? Stop being a dick to Teal? It had been more than a year and he had never once told me to back off before. Why should I stop now?

But then he kept talking, and my stomach plummeted between my hip bones, begging my bladder to please scoot over because it really had to be on its way.

“We know, okay,” he said, keeping his voice low enough for anyone passing by to not be able to hear.

I blinked at him. “Know what?”

He sighed and glanced around, tugging on my elbow and leading me slightly further away from the parked buses. “We know about Brendon,” he said.

My heart decided to join my stomach and bladder, all three abandoning me in my horror and opting instead to force themselves as far away as possible.

“W-what?” I asked, eyes flickering past him to the buses before sweeping back to his face. “What are you talking about?” Please don’t let him know, please, we couldn’t be that obvious…

He smiled—the bastard smiled!—and nudged my shoulder gently. “Calm down, Grigsby, we’re not gonna tell,” he chuckled.

“Who’s we?”

“Me and the guys. Louis and Greg.”

“Fuck!” I slapped my palm against my forehead and pivoted away from him. “Is it that obvious?”

He just kept laughing—at my pain, at my shame, at any other rhyme in that general area. “I’ve known you for like six years, Elizabeth. Give me some credit.”

“Fuck,” I groaned, digging my nails into my scalp. Some logic insisted that the more pain inflicted to the head during embarrassment diluted the heat in one’s cheeks, but that logic was wrong. I turned back to Matt and held out my hands, almost imploring him to understand. “I didn’t mean to, Matt. It just…it just kind of happened…”

He kept chuckling, that same dull tenor that I used to fall asleep to back in the days of touring in a crowded van, and shook his head. “Calm down, Grigsby. It happens, okay?”

I was even more confused. He was just okay with the fact that Brendon and I were casually engaging in an affair under everyone’s noses? “You’re eerily chill about this,” I said, lowering my eyebrows. “I mean, anyone else would freak out.”

He shrugged and crossed his arms. “I mean, Greg was a little mad at first. Didn’t want things to get screwy between the bands.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at his choice of words. “Well, don’t worry about that. We haven’t had sex yet.” We laughed together for about half a second before his irises tightened and he choked off his chuckle, staring at me blankly with his lips parting with a puff of air.

“Yet?” he asked.

Gravity wouldn’t quite let my jaw join the organs that had plummeted earlier, but it still tried, falling open as I froze where I stood. “Shit,” I whispered. “I thought—“

He grabbed my arm, glancing back at the buses again as he forcefully led me further away from any possibility of eavesdroppers. “Yet?” he asked again, his tone decidedly harsher this time around. “What the fuck do you mean yet?”

My throat felt very dry. “I thought you fucking knew! You just said—“

“Elizabeth, shut the fuck up,” he snapped, pointing a finger at me. “Just shut the fuck up for one sec.” He let out a long breath, letting the air evaporate like hot steam escaping from his nostrils as he tried to calm himself. He ran his fingers through his dark spikes and tugged, following the same logic that pain equated to calmness in these situations.

When he looked back at me he let out another swift curse and paced away before coming back with one of the most exasperated looks I’ve ever seen on a man. “Jesus Christ, Elizabeth! I just thought you had a crush on the guy, not that you were fucking him!”

“I’m not fucking him!” I snapped, lowering my voice to the harshest whisper possible. “I just fucking told you that!”

“You aren’t fucking him YET!”

I sighed and pushed him away. “What does it even matter?”

“He’s married, Elizabeth!” His growl made me flinch and pull back, closing my eyes as he stepped closer. My response didn’t stall him. “He’s married, okay? You of all fucking people should know better than to dick around with a guy who’s with someone else!” His nostrils flared when he stepped back and he glared at me. “End it. Right now.”

I could feel my cheeks burn in shame, and I tugged my eyes away from his, looking away for the first time during a confrontation with one of my bandmates. “There is no it, okay,” I mumbled, focusing on a pebble by my foot. “It’s been a few stray kisses and that’s it.”

“Then it won’t be that difficult to quit it,” he said, his tone still firm but with a splash of tenderness thrown in as a reminder that this was for my own good.

I couldn’t face him; still looking away, I just nodded, trying to blink away the tears I could feel brewing like a tea kettle behind my eyes. I just knew the longer I stayed here listening to Matt expand on what a terrible person I was the kettle would start to scream, and I would be a victim to the steam that would pour out my eyes with no hope of simmering.

Like he could sense my internal storm waiting to spill, Matt sighed, transforming back into my cuddly Math-partner and wrapping his arms around my neck until his chin was pressed firmly against the top of my head and my arms were encouraged to wrap around his waist.

“Oh, Grigsby,” he sighed, patting down the strands of hair that were threatening to blow into his mouth. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

I nodded into his chest, hoping the bobbing of my head would keep all the memories from settling back into the forefront of my mind, but it was too late. They broke me down like a dam and flooded my vision, and I pressed my face harder into Matt’s chest as the tears finally tore down my cheeks.

“Please, don’t tell anyone,” I begged, my voice muffled against his jacket.

“I won’t,” he shushed, rubbing a comforting palm against my back.

And then, with her impeccable tendency to have the worst timing ever, Teal rounded the corner, lips wrapped around a Snickers bar she had just bought inside. When she saw us, she froze, teeth clamped down around the chocolate nougat.

She pulled the bar away from her lips, smears of chocolate remaining on her cheeks, and turned her lips into a confused pout. “Matt?”

I pulled out of Matt’s grasp and did everything possible to avoid glancing at Teal. “I’m going to the bus,” I muttered.

He just nodded and let me scamper away. I furiously rubbed at my cheeks, wiping away any traces of my tears to the tempo of Teal’s squeals.

“What was that?” I could hear her shriek. “Why were you holding her?”

My lips tugged into a grin when I heard Matt’s curt response. “Teal? Just do me a favor. Shut the fuck up for once.”

--

“What do you mean you’re not coming out tonight?” Louis pouted after the show. His shirt clung to his chest in odd patterns as he collapsed against the green room couch, flinging his arms behind him to serve as a pillow and revealing the pit stains that explained some of the odor pervading the room.

I shrugged and dug a water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner, avoiding Matt’s stare. “I just feel like staying in tonight,” I said. “Just want to rest up.”

“But we’re in New York!” Louis whined, evidently not bothered with his stench and rolling onto his stomach. “You can’t not go out when we’re in New York!”

“Dude, let her have a night in,” Matt said. “She deserves a break from all of us.” I didn’t miss the emphasis he put on break on the way his eyebrows danced up when he turned to me. Luckily the others missed the implication.

I pressed the water bottle against my throat and sighed. “I actually think I’m gonna go ahead and head back to the hotel.”

“You’re not going to watch the Panic! set?” Greg asked, tugging a clean shirt over his head. “You never miss it lately.”

I could feel Matt’s eyes snap towards me but I just shrugged. “I’m not feeling so hot,” I said. To make it more convincing I pressed my palm against my forehead, brushing away my hair and giving a small sigh. “I just don’t want to come down with something and then suck on the songs for the next week.”

Greg scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. You have been sounding kind of scratchy lately.”

I dropped my hand and glared at him. “What now?”

Matt jumped up and pulled me back. “How ‘bout I round you up a cab?” he suggested, tossing me my purse and shoving me out of the room. “Don’t mind Greg,” he said as we snuck out of the venue without any fans catching us. “He’s deaf.”

I could do nothing but roll my eyes and bite my tongue, sliding into the cab once he held the door open for me. He waved, an attempt at a peace offering, but I stared straight ahead as the cab pulled away. I felt guilty looking at him, and guiltier still that the first real guilt I felt over the whole ordeal was only from the thought of disappointing one of my best friends instead of over doing something so terrible.

I hadn’t seen Brendon since we had arrived in New York, and knew my absence on the side of the stage wouldn’t go unnoticed. Knowing I would probably be getting some texts inquiring about what was up, I turned off my phone once I made it to my room and tossed it on my bag.

I thought a shower would help clear my head, like the hot water would somehow tell me how to end things with Brendon or—better yet—how to continue things with it somehow not being wrong, but no such answer sprung to mind. Even after brushing my hair, changing into my pajamas, and then brushing my hair once again, I had no answer prepared when I heard the soft knocking on my door and opened it to find Brendon’s concerned face peering at me.

“Hey,” he said, biting his lip nervously. His eyes darted down the hall before flicking back to my face. “Greg said you weren’t feeling good.”

“I thought you’d be going out with the guys,” I said.

He shrugged and leaned on the doorframe. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

I raised an eyebrow and mimicked his position on the opposite side of the frame. “And that made you think you should come check on me?”

He smiled. “You’re acting tough. What’s wrong?”

I scoffed and dropped my hands to my side. “It is not fair that you know me that well already,” I said and stormed back into the room.

He chuckled and closed the door softly behind him as he followed me in. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to read,” he said. He plopped down next to me on the bed, leaving a solid two inches of space between where his fingertips spread across the duvet and my thighs. “So why aren’t you going out tonight?”

I sent him a sidelong glance, peeking at him from beneath my mascara-free eyelashes and catching my lip between my teeth. “Brendon,” I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

When I looked into his eyes, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t in good conscious say, “Brendon, we’re done. I feel nothing for you, this is wrong, and so we’re done.” Because I actually felt quite a bit, enough that I had no idea how to decipher, and despite how wrong it was, I almost couldn’t care.

Because if this was all I could have of Brendon, just this time on the tour, I couldn’t be mad, because it was more than I deserved to have. I was lucky.

But I had to say it.

So instead of leaning into him, I just smiled sadly and looked down at his fingers. His ring finger lay naked before me, and without really thinking I grabbed his hand, tugging it up to my face to get a better look. “Where’s your ring?” I asked, pulling away and searching the hotel carpet for any signs of gold.

He rearranged my fingers until our palms were pressed together and he tugged them into his lap, holding me in place. “Don’t change the subject. What’s wrong?”

I shook my head when he reached out for me and practically leapt off the bed, pacing away from his touch. “I think you should leave,” I said. My voice didn’t convince even me.

Brendon stood and followed me as I moved around, his hands held out in an attempt of calming me down. “What? Why?”

“Please, just get out.”

His face sank and he stepped back as if he had been slapped. “Why are you being like this?” he asked. He lowered his eyebrows. “Are you on your period?”

I wasn’t angry before, but that was enough to set me off. “Are you fucking serious? No, I am not on my fucking period!”

“Then why are you freaking out right now?” he asked, hands still held out like he would catch me if I collided into him in my frantic pacing.

“Because I’m falling for you!” The words stunned us both; Brendon’s hands dropped to his sides and mine flew up to my jaw, covering my trembling lips as if I could force back those words, but they had already dissipated into the air around us.

His face softened and he took a step towards me, pausing when I instinctively stepped back. “Why is that a bad thing?” he asked, his voice as quiet as the soft hum of the heater by the window.

Each step he took towards me I mimicked with one back, rubbing my arms nervously and looking anywhere but at him. “Because,” I said, cursing how weak my voice sounded. I cleared my throat and tried again, staring him straight in the eye. “Because it’s too fucking cliché.”

He laughed, so loud in the silence that it almost sounded like a bark, and moved closer until he had me cornered against the door. “Then it would probably be cliché for me to admit I’m falling for you, too, right?”

“It would make you a dick,” I retorted, trying desperately to pull my gaze away from his chocolate eyes and failing miserably.

Instead of retorting, he indulged me with a patient smile, using his slender fingers to brush back the hair that had fallen in my face during my frantic scurrying away. “This whole thing is cliché,” he said. “It’s been cliché since the moment I met you. But I can’t help that.”

“I know,” I said before his lips pressed against mine.

I wish I could say it was intense, meaningless sex.

I would love to tell you that Brendon slammed me against the door, ignoring any muffled sound of pain I made and instead latching onto the skin at the base of my throat with his teeth. I would much prefer to tell you that he then tossed me across the room onto the bed and crawled over top of me, pinning my wrists by my head as he devoured and ravished me.

I wish I could tell you it was animalistic, but I’d be lying. Because it was so much more than that.

He didn’t slam me against the door—he cradled me against it, pressing his hand against my lower back and protecting it from the cold of the door. His lips were gentle when they found mine, more gentle than any other man had ever been with me, and his kiss was so intoxicating, so beautiful, I worried I might start weeping at the sheer wonderfulness of it all.

From the moment our clothes were shed on the floor to the time he laid me against the cool duvet of the bed, my mind was blank. I didn’t think about right or wrong—I sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about Sarah or Matt—all I thought about was Brendon, and how he not only had me trapped under his strong arms, but his spell as well.

The moonlight streamed in through the window, dipping through the glass to plaster against the wall. As I moved above Brendon my eyes caught sight of our shadows, and I watched as his other self sat up and wrapped his arms around me, one hand tightly gripping my hips, the other reaching up to brush back my hair so he could trail kisses along my neck. How could something so beautiful be so dangerous?

When it was all finished, we lay next to each other, gasping for breath and clutching at the sheets covering us. I closed my eyes, afraid to see the regret in his. He had to regret it, right? Why didn’t I?

I turned away on my side, sighing into the pillow to stop any traitor tears from spilling over my cheeks. Maybe if I avoided looking at him, we could stay buried in this moment—we could forget about the wrongness of it all and stay warm from the heat of our sheets. If I kept my eyes closed, I could pretend he loved me—and I could pretend it was okay for me to love him, too.

I froze when I felt his hand brush over my waist. His breath was cool against my neck, and he pulled me back into his chest, reaching his arm over me until he could link his fingers with mine. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, and it sounded like a heartbreak.

“Please don’t,” I whispered back. I tightened my grip against his fingers, clenching my eyes shut when I felt the breeze of his breath against my neck. “Can we just leave it like this, please? Just for tonight?”

I wasn’t sure if he would stay—I didn’t know if I wanted him to—but I did know one thing.

I was fucked, and in more ways than one.