The Making of Matt by Nicola Haken

forward, grabbing his arm to stop him tossing his jeans inside. “You have whites in there. If you put those in they’ll turn your shirts a dirty gray color.”
    “Hmm.” Matt scratched at his head, ruffling the light-brown hair that was still damp from his shower. “What about these?” he asked, swapping out the jeans for some light gray sweatpants.
    “Yep, they can go in.”
    “But they’re not white.”
    “No, but they’re light. They don’t contain the same high levels of dye as denim.”
    “Jeez, I didn’t know you needed a fucking degree just to wash your damn clothes.”
    “You could always hire someone to take care of this stuff.”
    “No,” he answered, his tone clipped and defensive. I abandoned the topic, wondering if he somehow thought of that idea as trying to replace his mom.
    After reading the label on the back of the detergent box he managed to figure out how much to use in his wash, but unfortunately it didn’t tell him which buttons he needed to push to bring the machine to life. Lining my body up behind his, I snaked my arms around his waist and pointed to the correct button. When I pulled back, my hand grazed his bare skin and I couldn’t prevent the small gasp that catapulted from the back of my throat. My body stilled and every one of my senses sprang to high alert. Matt was the only thing in the room I could see and feel, and his scent became so intoxicating I felt like if I inhaled too deeply it would knock me to the ground.
    We both stood completely frozen for what seemed like forever before Matt turned in my arms, his eyes locking on to mine, paralyzing me all over again.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice cracking but his body not moving an inch.
    My hands hovered nervously either side of his waist before finally settling on his taut flesh. I stared deep into his eyes, seeing the confusion I felt reflected in them. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my heart thudding.
    Feeling my cock swell, I tried to back away, terrified Matt would feel it and punch me in the face.
    “Don’t,” Matt urged, pulling me back to him with gentle hands on my forearms.
    “What are you doing?” I repeated the same question he’d just asked me. I hadn’t been so nervous, so confused, since my first kiss when I was fifteen years old. Is that what this is? Is he going to kiss me? Am I going to kiss him?
    “I don’t know either.”
    I closed my eyes, sure that if I looked at him for just one more second I would literally come in my pants. Matt shifted, his body shuffling impossibly closer to mine, so close I felt his breath, that was infused with vodka and toothpaste, sweep over my face.
    My breaths turned shallow and my pulse throbbed so violently in my neck I feared the vein might burst. “Matt…”
    “Shh. I need to try something.”
    Holy fuck.
    A thousand thoughts raced through my mind in the two short seconds it took for Matt’s lips to reach mine. I knew what was about to happen, my doubts lay in whether I should allow it. Not only was I afraid of being someone’s experiment, especially someone who had the power to break my heart, I didn’t want to take advantage of a grieving man.
    All thoughts and reason evaporated, however, the second the tender flesh of Matt’s lips brushed against my own. As Matt’s arms wound around my waist, his palms smoothing over the muscles in my back, I sighed into his mouth, pouring my emotions into him. His erection was prominent through his loose sweatpants and without thinking I reached down between us, gripping his cock through the soft material.
    That was the move that ruined everything.
    Matt jerked back, his mouth agape in shock.
    “I should go,” I said, coughing in an effort to clear the lump clogging my throat as I turned for the door.
    “Alex no. I just…I’m just not sure what’s going on right now. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
    I turned back around, unable to look him in the eye. “You haven’t. It’s me. I can’t do