Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(84)

“I’m not sure what Teacher Finn is doing tonight.” I shrug. “We can ask him about his weekend on Monday.”

“But who is that?” He points directly at Matthew, who offers an awkward wave in response.

“That’s Matthew,” I tell him.

This doesn’t seem to clear anything up for Danny, but his mom cuts him off before he can ask another question.

“Give Teacher Phoebe a hug goodbye,” she tells him. “We’ll see her at school next week.”

As they walk away, I can faintly hear Danny continue his line of questioning while his mom tries to distract him with cotton candy.

I raise myself up from my crouched position and hurry back over to Matthew, anxious to continue what we started.

“That was really cute.” He smiles, but his expression turns into something unreadable as he leans back against the fence. “Who’s Finn?” he asks, shrugging as he takes another bite of the corn dog.

Danny has completely killed the mood.

“Finn is the fourth-grade teacher,” I tell him. “We spend a lot of time with their class.”

“I get the sense that Danny thinks you two are a package deal.”

“Yeah, well,” I sigh. “Danny is five years old and also thinks that one plus one is eleven.” I smile softly at Matthew. “I promise you, there is absolutely nothing to worry about there.”

“I’m not worried.” He reaches his hands out for mine. “Just insanely jealous that someone else gets to spend that much time with you.”

I don’t even try to hide the ridiculous grin that spreads across my face.

“Next!” The ride operator ushers the next group of riders through the gate. We’re the last two to make it on.

Matthew scans over the track ahead of us as we buckle our seatbelts. “This doesn’t look like a ride for kids.” He points to a spot on the rail that curves to the side. “That’s basically upside down.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” I assure him as the ride begins to inch forward.

The second we pick up speed, Matthew grabs my knee. And less than a minute later, when we get to the slight right turn that he described as “basically upside down,” I feel his entire body tense beside me.

“You okay?” I steal a glance in his direction. His face has turned a sickly shade of green. “Oh no.”

“I’m fine.” I can barely hear his whisper over the sound of the ride. “Totally fine.” His grip on me tightens.

As soon as we come to a halt, I yank him off the ride and lead him toward an empty space behind an abandoned street cart. I reach into my tote and hand him my barf bag. “Here. Let it out.”

He takes it from my hands wordlessly and does just that.

Not even the sight of him heaving up our entire boardwalk buffet is enough to dull my feelings for him. In fact, there’s something vulnerable about the way he’s hunching over a paper bag that makes me want him more.

I’m sick.

I am a sick person.

Matthew groans as he lowers himself to the ground, leaning his back against the cart and sticking his head between his knees.

“Better?” I ask, sitting down next to him.

When he rolls his head over to face me, I’m relieved to see that some of the color has returned to his face. “I really, really wish you didn’t have to see that.”

I scooch closer to him and place my hand on his back. “I’m just glad it was you and not me.” After everything that I’ve put myself through, Matthew puking in front of me before I got the chance to do it in front of him is nothing short of a miracle.

“It was the corn dog,” he whispers.

I continue rubbing his back while he gets himself together. “It was the corn dog,” I assure him, despite having eaten the exact same thing and keeping it down.

Eventually, he stands up and pulls me off the ground with him. “Do you have gum in that bag of yours?” he asks.

“Yes, but I can do you one better.” I pull out my water bottle and the little pouch where I keep my emergency toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m always prepared for the worst.”

He accepts everything graciously, looking at me so affectionately that I have to break eye contact. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Thank you for being the first of us to yack.”

He takes a dramatic bow before he starts brushing his teeth.

“And just for the record…” he says through a mouth full of toothpaste, spitting the excess onto the ground.

Sexy. This must be how Ethan feels about Jamie.

“…you could throw your Frosted Flakes up all over me and I wouldn’t care. You’re so hard on yourself, but you could completely lose it in front of me and I’d never think any less of you.”

Oh.

My eyes begin to sting.

I don’t think there is a single quote from any book, line from any movie, or lyric to any song that will ever mean as much to me as what Matthew just said. I stare at him through my cloudy vision, watching him move through the motions of brushing his teeth as if he didn’t just deliver the most groundbreakingly romantic speech I’ve ever heard in my life.

I lose all my patience. I pluck the toothbrush out of his hand, drop it to the ground, and throw my hands around his neck so I can pull his lips to mine.