There was something about Katya that made Matthew want to never look away from her, and no, it wasn't the tits.
He leaned against the wall, cheap beer in hand, at some stupid party that his foreign exchange cousin from France had dragged him to. It had gotten so humid in the cramped room filtered with the thick July air; Matthew had to take off his trademark red hoodie. Now, he looked like half the guys in the room, (the ones who were still fully covered) with his white cotton t-shirt.
And then he saw her. She was angelic. She bit her lip with nervous eyes as she talked to another girl, staring into her own plastic cup of beer that no self-respecting Canadian would ever drink.
He couldn't unglue his face from her eyes. Big, round, timid and sky blue, and the most beautiful set of peepers he'd ever had the pleasure to see. He took a step forward, planning to find his way over there to talk to her, but stopped immediately after that; because a.)he was male, and b.)she was female.
So there he stood, perfectly still, nevertheless staring at her, with a face that could only be accurately described as a "what do" face.
And then something either really bad or really good happened. She turned around, surveying the room, and made eye contact with Matthew.
They stood. They stared. Matthew almost took a sip of his beer, but then he remembered what he was doing. She snorted. Matthew was in love. Katya was amazed and flattered he was watching her face and not her boobs. The world had stopped moving.
That was, until some guy randomly started to grind up against Katya, fondling the place any self-respecting woman would really hate to be fondled by a stranger.
Matt dropped his running joke of a beverage, pushing through the thick and crowded living room. His glasses were knocked to the ground. By the time he found his way to where Katya was standing across the room, she had the douche pinned against a nearby couch, her knee on his back, and her hands holding his arms in place behind him.
Matthew didn't think the woman could get more amazing, but this had proven him wrong.
She noticed him, and craned her neck to meet his eyes again. She smiled sheepishly, "I appreciate you rushing over here to save me." She let go of the man, kicking him in the back as he tried to scamper off. "That's happened a lot before, and nobody ever made the effort to do anything."
She turned towards him. They were about the same height. "Hi," she grinned, "I'm Katya and can you see okay without your glasses?"
"Hi," he replied sheepishly, "and not really."
She looked over his shoulder, cringing as she caught a glimpse of the crushed spectacles. "Well then, this is no place for you to be!" She tangled their fingers together, and pulled him along. They both blushed at the touch as she led him to the door.
"I have a spare pair in my car," he added, "you'd be surprised how often this sort of stuff happens."
She snorted again.
They made it out of the house, into the cool-but-humid weather. She stopped. "Which one's yours?"
He pointed to the left, "A white minivan down that way a bit."
When they found it after a bit of walking, he took his keys out, unlocked the car, and leaned into the van, trying to get his spare glasses out of the door pocket on the opposite side of the car.
Meanwhile, Katya took the opportunity to take a few innocent glances at his ass.
He whipped back up after finding them, standing up straight and eerily close to Katya.
"Hi."
"Hi."
She smiled some more, leaning even closer than already-a-bit-too close.
Her breasts pushed on his chest, as breasts that big are prone to do.
He stammered incoherently, his body freezing, his face flushing.
As her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands interwove themselves in his chin-length waves. Matthew was blushing from ear to ear; his thoughts were racing in anticipation. One would normally look away if they were as embarrassed as he was, but his gaze was permanently locked to Katya's eyes, which were half-lidded and almost seductive.
His heart was pounding like the sound of a car playing rap music with its bass turned up all the way. Before her face could get any closer to his, he took a bold move, and locked their lips, in a fury of embarrassment and spontaneity.
And then they made out in the passenger seat of a minivan. The sex appeal the setting adds makes it almost zero times more sensual.
"Whoa," said Matthew after coming up for air. "Whoa."
Matt was the kind of guy who would never see a pair of tits and be a virgin until he was like thirty and got bitches because he was like a CEO or something. However, the definition of a Matthew might have to be rewritten because he was probably about to get laid as a sophomore in college by a woman who didn't even know how much money he had, which by the way was none.
Of course, something cock-blocking just had to happen. That preventative action against coitus was none other than the local pot guy sitting in the back seat of the minivan.
"Matt… who is sitting in the back over there?" asked Katya. Matt sat up and stared at the local pot guy.
"Lars, what the hell are you doing in my car?" said Matt to the local pot guy. The local pot guy, Lars van Houten, was never seen smoking pot, he only distributed it as a part of his job as local pot guy. His hair was thoroughly gelled to stand straight up, and he had a scar on his forehead that occasionally disappeared. Nobody really thought anything about it, and some would say the scar only came/left if one was high.
Lars sighed. "I'm camping out in here because I'm hiding from Ivan's crazy sister."
"Ivan Braginski's sister?"
"Yeah, that's her."
She frowned. "Yeah, if I were you I'd be hiding from her, too. But I'm Ivan and Natalia's eldest sister, so I have to keep an eye on them," she turned to Matt to explain,
"My siblings are both batshit insane."
"So wait," Matt interjected, "How the flying fuck on a French fry did you get in my car?"
"You left the doors unlocked, stupid," said Lars. He opened the minivan's trunk. "So, I'll just leave you two alone and go hide in my sister's car instead. She's probably gonna need a designated driver anyways."
Matt and Katya resumed making out about three seconds after the trunk slammed shut, and just got further into their little world. Katya took his shirt off, and he slipped his hands down farther, inching toward her butt which was probably as glorious as the rest of her body.
And then a scream came from behind.
"!" yelled a crackly female voice.
Katya turned around, seeing her younger sister running towards her while buck naked with red paint all over her body, followed by her brother who was carrying Natalia's clothes and a sponge.
When Natalia reached her sister, she stopped to breathe for a second before talking. "Where is van Houten? Must. Kill. Pot. GUY!"
Katya, without missing a beat, said, "I haven't seen him."
"Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiillll."
"No. No killing. Put your clothes on."
Natalia ran off again, in search of the local pot guy. Unluckily for Lars, she went in the general direction of his sister's car.
And then Ivan came up. "Katya," pant, "Sister," pant, "crazy."
"I'm aware."
Ivan looked around Katya to see Matt.
"Why are you straddling that guy on the hockey team?"
"'Cause he's hot."
Ivan stared at Matt again. "If you do anything to hurt my sister's feelings I will sic Natasha on you." He turned and ran after Natalia. "Сестра! Иди сюда пожалуйста! У тебя слишком пить!"
And then a camera flash. Matt blinked. It was Kiku the Honda and his Nikon of doom.
Matt realized that he was not, in fact, going to lose his virginity tonight after all.
"Hello," said Kiku, "I love taking pictures of people in compromising conditions."
Matt tried using his outdoor voice, "Then go take pictures of Arthur or something. He's probably drunk and pretty compromised by now."
"Oh, no," explained Kiku, "I already have killer footage of him. He's been with your cousin all night.
"Who? Francis, Angelique, or Al?"
Kiku made a funny face that suggested it was probably all of the above.
Kiku left.
"You know, Kat," started Matthew, putting his shirt back on, "How about I just take you home?"
She snorted. "That sounds good."
He shifted over to the driver's seat, letting Katya scoot into the passenger's seat with more ease. He stuffed his car keys into the keyhole with a somewhat frustrated jerk, and turned them with a sigh.
"I'm sorry," said Katya, "Crazy things always seem to happen around me."
"Don't worry; you're not alone on that one. I'm a regular shenanigans magnet." He pulled out of his spot behind a Sedan and started down the street. He heard a bit of muffled screaming from somewhere outside the car, and chose to ignore it. But then, as surely as the world goes around, something hit the car.
Or rather, someone. Matt, who had slammed on the breaks as soon as he heard something hit, saw the squished face of the local pot guy's face on the back window. Behind him was a still naked, still raging Natalia. Lars opened the trunk and got in and yelled at Matthew to step on it. He did. But he still went the speed limit. Unless Natalia suddenly had rocket skates, he doubted she could go 25.
Later, quite a bit later in fact, Matt was taking the liberty of dropping Lars off first. He decided that maybe, if he got a bit more alone time with Katya, he just might get laid. The local pot guy lived, ironically, in the gayborhood part of Toronto known as Church Street. It was ironic because he wasn't gay (or so Matt thought).
He attempted to make a lighthearted joke about this. "So Lars," began Matt, "Living the alternate lifestyle?"
"Yes, in fact," replied the local pot guy. There was not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Wait, seriously?"
"Yes, seriously. Do you even know for how long I was hoping that you were gay too? You had no idea all this time?"
"Oh, geez. I'm sorry, Lars." He glanced apologetically to the Dutch man in the trunk.
"Nah, I'm totally over you. I think it was mostly just your ass, anyways."
"It is nice," added Katya.
Matt and his soccer-mom mobile pulled up into Lars' driveway. Another car was there that was neither Lars' nor his sister's. Lars recognized it.
"Oh shit, son. Antonio's here. And that probably means his whiny husband is here too, which means they probably brought home Belle and her girlfriend which probably means that the girlfriend's male fag-hag is there which means that his brother is there which means that his brother is there."
"One, two, three… Seven people can't fit in a sports car, Lars," Matt deadpanned.
"They'll find a way."
Matt gave the local pot guy a Look. A look that said, "don't be ridiculous, you bitchface."
"Wait, Belle van Houten?" asked Katya.
"Yeah," said the local pot guy, "My sister."
"I went to high school with her. She tried to pick me up on several occasions."
"Yeah, if you're breathing she's gonna do that."
Lars got out of the car. He looked around, seemingly for any rabid Natalias on the loose, and proceeded to walk inside. And then walked right back out. He opened the trunk door with an unamused look on his face and sat back down behind the back row of seats.
"Antonio was in there having a domestic dispute with Lovino who was trying to get Belle to take her shirt off who was trying to get Elizaveta to take her shirt of who was too busy yelling drunkenly at Roderich who was drowning his sorrows in beer while Ludwig was trying to keep Gilbert from drowning his penis in beer."
Matt blinked. "So you really can fit seven people into a sports car."
"Just so you know, I'm crashing at your place tonight."
"Lovely."
Matt dropped Katya off at her house. He was sad that he wasn't getting any action tonight, but hey, at least he knew where she lived. He decided to try his best to forget the address as not to seem like a stalker. He went home and the local pot guy crashed on his couch. Weeks went by with nothing happening, and the new term started at Matt's college. He walked into Sociology on Tuesday morning to a pleasant surprise.
"Katya?"
"Matt?"
"Katya!"
"Matt!"
They realized that it was ten minutes until class started, so they decided to go to the janitor's closet and fuck. And this is the story of how Matthew finally got laid.
