Chapter 14
The rest of the day passed in a haze for Frank. Every moment felt heavy with the lingering weight of their kiss, but Matt acted like nothing had happened. He was calm, composed—business as usual. It drove Frank a little crazy.
By the time evening rolled around, Frank was practically pacing the apartment, his nerves frayed. Matt, as always, was one step ahead.
“Frank, you’re going to wear a hole in my floor,” Matt said from the kitchen, where he was chopping vegetables with his usual ease.
Frank shot him a look, though he knew Matt couldn’t see it. “You don’t even care, do you?”
Matt paused, tilting his head in Frank’s direction. “Care about what?”
“You know damn well what,” Frank growled, gesturing vaguely.
Matt set down the knife and leaned casually against the counter, his lips twitching in amusement. “You mean the kiss?”
Frank crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “Yeah, the kiss. You’re sittin’ there makin’ dinner like it didn’t even happen.”
Matt’s smile softened, and he stepped closer. “Frank, just because I’m not freaking out doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it.”
Frank blinked, his defenses momentarily faltering. “You’re thinkin’ about it?”
Matt nodded, his expression serious. “Of course I am. But I figured you needed space to work through it.”
Frank exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re somethin’ else, Red.”
Matt grinned. “So I’ve heard.”
“Alright, come here,” Matt said suddenly, grabbing a second knife from the drawer and holding it out to Frank.
Frank raised an eyebrow. “What’re you doin’?”
“You’re helping me finish dinner,” Matt said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Frank hesitated, then sighed and took the knife. “Fine. What am I cuttin’?”
Matt guided him toward the counter, his hand brushing lightly against Frank’s wrist. “Start with the peppers. I’ll handle the onions.”
For a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with the soft sound of chopping and the occasional clatter of utensils. It was almost peaceful—until Frank spoke up.
“You sure you trust me with a knife this close to you?” he asked, his tone half-teasing.
Matt smirked. “I’ve survived worse.”
Frank shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” Matt replied, his grin widening.
Despite himself, Frank found himself relaxing. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, the warmth of the kitchen, and Matt’s calm presence all worked together to chip away at his tension.
Once dinner was ready—a simple stir-fry with rice—they sat at Matt’s small table, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling over them.
“You know,” Matt said after a few bites, “you’re pretty good at this.”
Frank snorted. “What, cookin’?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah. I might have to keep you around.”
Frank rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “Careful, Red. You keep talkin’ like that, I might start thinkin’ you like havin’ me here.”
Matt tilted his head, his expression soft but serious. “Maybe I do.”
Frank froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” Matt asked, his tone gentle.
“Because,” Frank said, setting his fork down. “It makes it harder to leave.”
Matt leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. “Maybe I don’t want you to leave.”
Frank looked at him, his chest tight with conflicting emotions. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, Red.”
Matt smiled faintly. “I’ve never been one to play it safe.”
The room felt too small, the air too charged. Frank stood abruptly, pushing his chair back.
“I need some air,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket and heading for the fire escape.
Matt didn’t stop him, but his voice followed Frank as he opened the window. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”