My Holiday Hook-Up

Chapter 6: Hot And Cold

"Jo?"

"Go away," I commanded, the c***k in my voice betraying me. I refused to look at him, but I could feel him standing only a few feet away, his presence like a heavy weight in the otherwise quiet space.

"You can't honestly be that upset about hearing his name," Matty tried, his voice still calm despite the sharpness of mine.

I blinked rapidly, trying to hold the tears in. A small piece of advice: never reason with someone who's crying their heart out. Just don’t. It doesn’t make them feel better; it makes them feel like their pain is insignificant. Like they're being stupid. Which, of course, only makes the tears come harder.

And right then, I felt like an i***t. "It's not really about that, you i***t!" I yelled, my frustration and grief boiling over. "You try having your heart ripped out of your chest and see how you like it!"

"No, thank you, that sounds quite uncomfortable," Matty replied calmly, not at all fazed by my outburst.

Of course, he had to be an asshole about it. "Just go away. Please," I sighed, my voice ragged.

Matty let out a huff, clearly not planning to leave. "You know, Stefan is really not worth this. He's a d**k, and crying over him isn’t just pointless, it’s also kind of... idiotic."

I turned to look at him, the words cutting deeper than I expected. "Yo—you should look into a career as a grief counselor. I have a feeling you'd be excellent at it." My voice was shaky, but the sarcasm was the only armor I had left.

He shrugged, unbothered. "Considering I’m excellent at most things I do, yeah, I probably would." Then he gave a cocky smile and fluffed his hair out of his face.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes despite the pain. "No wonder you're friends with him. You're just as cocky."

"More like he learned from the best," Matty bragged, casually pushing his hair back again, his grin widening. "I'm the king of cockiness, and he's just a lame-ass copycat."

I had to stifle a laugh, even though I was still crying. Matty was annoying, sure, but he had this way of lightening the mood, even when I didn’t want it.

I wanted to wallow, to let my misery consume me, but Matty wasn't having it. He wouldn't leave, and that made me even more irritated. I didn't want to feel better. Not yet.

"I looked up the photo," I confessed, my voice low and rough. I hated the fact that I was about to talk about it again.

Matty’s face shifted into something darker. "Oh, Jo," he sighed. "When did you have time to do that?"

"Just a couple of minutes ago," I muttered, feeling the burn of the memory crawl back up to the surface. Stefan had been smiling so damn broadly, while the girl... the girl was all over him. It was like a slap to the face.

I took another long swig from the bottle, hoping the bitterness would drown out the ache. "She looked pretty. Way prettier than me. Nobody cares that she can barely spell, as long as she’s got a great ass and a good rack."

"Why do you insist on comparing yourself to her?" Matty asked, his voice tired now. It was clear he was growing impatient with the topic, but I didn’t care. He’d followed me here; if he didn’t like it, that was his problem.

"Because she’s way prettier. And cooler," I muttered to myself, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

"Bullshit." Matty’s voice cut through my self-loathing like a sharp knife. "You don’t even believe that."

I didn’t respond. I just wanted him to leave me alone so I could wallow in my misery, uninterrupted. But of course, he didn’t. Instead, I felt the heat of his body moving closer.

"I want you to go," I said flatly, my tone dull with resignation.

He looked at me for a moment, then sighed. But the tension between us shifted in a heartbeat when he lunged forward, his lips landing on the side of my neck in a flurry of kisses.

I burst out laughing, a sound so unexpected it startled me. I hadn’t meant to, but there was something about Matty’s affectionate, almost playful touch that was hard to resist. Even in my sorrow, his energy was magnetic.

"Don't be sad, Jojo," Matty murmured against my skin, peppering kisses along my neck. "I like your laugh better than your frown."

I tilted my head back, my pulse quickening despite everything. I should be pushing him away. I should remind myself that I just got dumped by Stefan, and that I wasn’t about to fall into some rebound with Matty, but his lips were doing things to me that made it hard to think.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, suddenly exhausted from everything. Matty’s arm wrapped around me, pulling me in. His warmth seeped into me, calming the storm that had been brewing inside me.

"I just know you're going to be high maintenance, aren’t you?" he teased, his breath tickling my ear.

"Yup," I replied, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a smirk.

Matty's arm tightened around me, his fingers tracing slow circles on my shoulder. His warmth seeped into me, and the lingering alcohol buzz made it hard to think straight. I tilted my head up to look at him, intending to tease him for calling me high maintenance, but the words got caught in my throat.

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, were focused intently on me. The teasing grin he'd worn earlier had vanished, replaced by something deeper— something that made my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with heartbreak.

"You've got this little crease between your brows when you're trying not to cry," he murmured, his thumb brushing against my temple. "Even when you're mad, you're... something else."

"Something else like what?" I challenged, my voice shaky despite my attempt to sound composed.

"Something I'd like to figure out."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, his hand cupped my jaw, and he leaned in. I froze, torn between pushing him away and leaning into the moment.

"Matty," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Tell me to stop, Jo," he murmured against my lips. His breath was warm, his voice low and rough.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

The kiss was slow at first, a gentle press of his lips against mine, but it quickly deepened. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access, and I melted into him despite every warning bell going off in my head.

The taste of Jack Daniel’s mixed with something distinctly him made my head spin. My hands, as if acting on their own, gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He shifted, pressing me back against the cold marble step. His lips left mine to trail along my jawline, down the column of my neck, each kiss sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"Still want me to go?" he teased, his voice husky as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin just below my ear.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands threading into his hair. "Shut up, Matty."

"That's what I thought," he muttered before capturing my lips again.

His hands roamed, skimming over my sides and settling on my waist, his grip firm and possessive. Every inch of me felt hyper-aware of him, of the way his body pressed against mine, of the heat building between us.

I should stop this. I should think about the consequences. But right now, with Matty's lips on mine and his hands igniting every nerve in my body, thinking was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Jo," he murmured against my mouth, his tone softening. "Tell me if this is too much."

I pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes searched mine, waiting for permission, for something.

Instead of answering, I kissed him again, my fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. His low groan sent shivers down my spine, and suddenly, the empty castle felt far too quiet.

We were breaking all kinds of rules, but for once, I didn’t care.