Page 17 of Please Open Me
“The last time you looked like this—” Mattie gestured to me “—was when you forgot to eat all day and tried to run a mile. Youhaveeaten, right?”
And somehow,thatquestion was worse than all of it.
Had I eaten?
Yeah. A ton.
Sure, I threw away most of my breakfast this morning. But I’d had a blueberry muffin on the way home from dropping the twins at daycare. Instant noodles. Apple slices. A hummus and veggie sandwich. A protein bar on the way to the gym.
Still, it felt like I had a black hole where my stomach should be.
And that was mortifying. So I lied.
“I can’t remember,” I mumbled.
Mattie stared at me, face contorting like she was trying not to scream. After a second, she stood and offered a hand.
“Come on. We’re done.”
Without thinking, I took it, and she hauled me to my feet. I tried to pull my hand back, but she tightened her grip and kissed my fingers.
My heart turned into a helium balloon, floating so high I thought it might leave my chest.
Then she tugged me along like I was nothing more than a ragdoll.
“I need to get my bag,” I protested.
“Fuck your bag. I’ll get it when we’re done.” Her tone left no room for argument, which was part of what I liked about her.
She reminded me a little of Lucian.
Except, well, she was a girl. But just as firm when she needed to be—and just as soft when the moment called for it. I genuinely believed everyone at home would love her, but she seemed nervous about meeting them.
Together, we wove through weightlifters and nosy girls on treadmills. Through my haze, I heard her tell the girl at the front desk something about taking a twenty-minutebreak.
The glass door slid open as we approached, and cool air hit me like a truck. I hadn’t realized how hot I was until now. So maybe itwasa good thing she’d forced me outside.
But outside was sensory hell.
The sun was too bright.
The cars were too loud.
The breeze made me dizzy.
My legs felt like they didn’t belong to me. The short walk across the street became an expedition. Still, Mattie remained patient. She slowed down when I needed her to, wrapping an arm around my waist to help me balance.
Eventually, we reached the front door of Loaves of Love, one of my favorite places in town.
A bell chimed overhead as Mattie opened the door. The scent of cinnamon and butter hit me instantly. My mouth watered, but my stomach flipped.
The café buzzed with quiet conversations, humming just below the indie pop playing overhead. Light poured through the windows, making the mismatched tables and worn cushions feel incredibly homey.
Mattie led me to the secluded booth in the back, safe from windows and wayward selfies.
Dating an autistic celebrity wasn’t for the faint of heart. But Mattie seemed to handle it with an almost unnatural level of ease, like she’d been preparing for this her whole life.
She sat me down before heading to the counter. The second she left, I closed my eyes and basked in the sunlight. She came back almost too quickly with banana bread, an iced coffee, and a glass of lemonade.
