Half-past eleven was when the phone rang, and I did let it ring a few times before answering. No one called me that late and if they did, it would be the last time after I picked up. But for this call, I feigned annoyance for who was on the other end. Mathieu had a knack for calling when I was close to nodding off or giving up on waiting for him.

It had to be closer to midnight when I knocked on his door and waited for him to answer. I didn’t know why he took so long since we practically lived on top of each other. It wasn’t much for aspiring “somebodies” of Los Angeles, one of those complexes just on the verge of being in the wilderness. Way below my means, but the added savings and dibs from Lou’s nights at the club made a decent nest egg. 

Mathieu answered in his silk robe, the one he wore when he swore he wouldn’t try anything. Wet spritzes of cologne still dampened his neck, so he must have just put it on. He reeked of that expensive one he claimed was a gift and was convinced that I found so peachy keen on him. Whether it was to cover up the scent from earlier or impress me didn’t matter; I was here anyway.

“You sounded tired on the phone. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Mathieu locked the door and walked through the dimly lit living room to the couch. He had the same one since he moved in with tufts of stuffing poking through and frayed. He made enough to replace it tenfold, but he claimed it matched his bachelor pad decor.

“What else would I be doing this late at night?” I sat next to him at my initial proposed distance. “You’re lucky I answered.”

Mathieu chuckled and crossed his legs. Sometimes I wondered how much he saw through me. It wasn’t playing hard to get or ignoring his apple butter and charm; Mathieu sometimes made it so damn hard. We both knew the risks and what was at stake, yet he was worth it all to me.

“Still didn’t take you long to come over,” Mathieu said.

I touched his exposed chest, now dry. “Yet you still found time to spray on some cologne.” 

“I know it’s the one you like.”

“I’m sure it’s a hit at the studio.” 

“Come on, Darzsa. Don’t act all suspicious.” Mathieu coiled his finger around the hem of my shirt. “I only put on the good stuff for—”

“Me. I know you say it all the time.” We were at this part of the night where I pretended not to notice him inviting me closer.

“So maybe I should tell you more,” Mathieu offered before he started with the excuses. “I can’t sneak off to the shop like I used to, and this extra stuff I’m doing—seeing you like this—won’t last too much longer.”

“I wouldn’t be so suspicious if you’d say yes.” I resisted his hand cradling my cheek, but I always ended up right next to him regardless of the cushions between us. I didn’t mind going the day without seeing him or the late nights as long as I didn’t lose him.

“This again, Darzsa?”

“What, no ‘baby doll’ this time?” I’d asked him before to make things official, but he gave me the same non-answer each time. I ducked out of his grasp and tucked in my shirt. “I have to get up early in the morning.” 

“Darzsa, wait,” Mathieu pleaded. “I’m so close to screening for something big, not ‘the help’ or anything like that. You know that film we went to see? All-Black cast—that could be me. Not these contracts they hand out like candy; I’m talking movie deals.”

Countless times I gave my time, dedication, and heart to Mathieu, and this is how he repaid me. “And you think I’ll ruin it for you.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just…need to stay focused right now.” Mathieu caressed my chin and tilted his head just so to exercise some vulnerability. “You’ve had some late nights at the shop and your weekends helping Lou. We both get busy sometimes.”

But he always had a way to dole out his appreciation when he took a little too much. “What’s your point?”

“This could be my big break.” Mathieu circled his arms around my waist, and his robe revealed his inflated chest, the way it did when he was a little too proud of himself. “Give me some time, okay? But no matter what, I need you there. With me.”

He'd reel me back in when I had enough of those sweet words and was ready to walk away. 

And I’d let him. 

Mathieu’s hazel eyes stared back at me from behind low lids when I removed the plush robe from his shoulders. It didn’t take much effort on his part when I climbed onto his lap. The smell of his cologne emanated off his skin, bold and woody as if he was carved from mahogany himself. I breathed in the remnants of tobacco when I bit at the hints of pink in his bottom lip like fresh fruit.

My twice untucked shirt hung around my neck before landing behind me, the beginning of the trail of clothes that would lead to the bedroom. Mathieu was usually dedicated to undressing me first, but his lack of clothing underneath his robe made it easier for him to get there ahead of me. 

I did the pleasure of unzipping my pants, and he peeled them down to my knees. I imparted enough impressions to leave my own calling card on him; they were barely visible, but those burgundy marks wouldn’t fade soon. The perfume I smelled on him earlier was long gone when I kissed his neck, pecking and nipping at the stubble along his jaw.  

Mathieu moved to the edge of the couch, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders while he didn’t sacrifice a second from kissing me. If we had more nights like this, more times like we used to, I wouldn’t be so suspicious; I wouldn’t have my doubts or worry and still hold on to him. But I was willing to wait for him as long as he came back to me. As long as he was mine.

My daydreams were dashed when the phone rang, startling both of us. Mathieu must have known where my mind went because his grip around my waist tightened.

“Probably a prank or something, you know those kinds of phone calls they do at all hours,” Mathieu said between his lips on mine. “Ignore it.”

The phone stopped ringing, and Mathieu grounded himself, coaxing me to stand. But after a few steps, the phone rang again. Mathieu tried to ignore it again, almost protesting by kissing my neck, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. It was also a real mood killer.

“Just answer it,” I said. 

“Whoever it is can wait.” Mathieu stretched down my underwear until they fell around my ankles. “I’m busy.”

I walked backward with him to his bedroom, but on cue with the previous disruptions, the phone rang as soon as I touched the knob. “If you don’t answer it, I will.”

Mathieu groaned and scratched over his coily hair, picking up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”