11. Chapter Eleven

By the time the sun had started to set—is that what we called it when the sun was up nearly 24 hours a day?—I was wiped out and ready to crawl into bed. Matty and I shared a bed as we had been, which was kind of his mother to allow with grace. Increasingly, I found the line between fake and feelings was disappearing, and visiting Matty's family, being welcomed into the fold… well, it wasn't helping me keep the feelings on the right side of the line.

When we woke, we weren't cuddling, but it was awfully close, and I ducked into the shower before I could do anything I'd regret at his mom's house. We spent the morning in Kristiansand, visiting with his family, before driving back home. Once again, we were alone except for a confessional camera that Brock and Steve had given us to record any thoughts we had on the way home.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, fixing the camera on Matty as he drove.

"Of course. Anything."

I hesitated for a second, not wanting to sound stupid. "Why do people call you Matthias?"

He laughed. "It is my name, you know."

"What about Matt?"

"Short for Matthias."

"No." I rolled my eyes. "That's not what I meant. I mean, I call you Matty. Always have. But here, nobody calls you that."

Matty shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"But why? I'm just curious."

He sighed and looked at me quickly before turning his focus back to the road. When he spoke, it was quiet. "Matthias is more professional. More grown-up. It's my outside face. Matty… well, that's for people who know me best. The ones who get to see inside."

"But…" I pressed on. "Your mom and brother call you Matthias. If they don't get to call you Matty, who does?"

"You."

I frowned. "Who else?"

Matty shook his head. "Nobody. Just you."

"Oh." His explanation ran through my head. The ones who get to see inside. The one was more like it, it sounded like. The thought that I was the only person allowed to call him this special nickname, and that everyone knew it, made my chest heat. There was a fluttering sensation in my stomach. I chalked it up to exhaustion and maybe the smoked salmon. Or the cheese that they called brunost. I didn't know, but it was probably one of the new foods that made my stomach hurt. Right?

The trip felt interminable but in the early afternoon we made it back to Drammen, where he lived, and Matty's apartment. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, so I went to bed to sleep off the jet lag and the long trip. When I woke, it was dim in the bedroom. Matty lay asleep, his blond hair mussed, his chest rising in deep, even breaths. I had the strangest urge to touch him, to brush the hair aside and… I didn't know what else.

I forced myself to close my eyes and try to sleep again.

When I woke again, the light was bright outside and Matty wasn't in bed. I tossed the covers aside and got up, sleepily wandering into the kitchen.

He didn't see me right away, focusing instead on making breakfast, but when he spotted me, a huge smile broke out over his face. "Good morning. Did you get enough sleep?"

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. "I'm feeling a little better." When I opened my eyes again, Matty was looking at me strangely, an expression on his face I couldn't quite pin down. It occurred to me that I was only wearing my pajama pants, no shirt, and his gaze was focused on my half-naked body. The fact that he was checking me out made my stomach lurch in a way I wasn't used to around him. The heat built in my face and, strangely enough, my cock began to stiffen, too. "Sorry," I muttered. "I'm going to go get clothes on."

Matty blinked a few times as if he'd been dazed. "No, you're fine. I didn't mean to stare." After another second, he was all business. "I'm making American pancakes for us. I hope you're hungry."

I chuckled. "Always."

After I dressed and we ate, Matty informed me of the day's plans. "I'm taking you to Oslo today. Wear sturdy shoes. We'll be walking a lot. Sightseeing."

"Aye aye, Captain. What about the crew?"

"Steve and Brock are going to meet us at Sentralstasjonen."

Soon enough, we'd taken a bus to the main train station, and then hopped a train to Oslo. The trip from Drammen took about an hour, all told. We made our way through the station and out into the large plaza, people bustling every which way, most speaking in quick Norwegian or some other language I couldn't keep up with. A few were speaking English, but my head still spun with the newness of it all. I kept quiet and followed Matty to where he said we'd be meeting with Steve and Brock—directly in front of a massive bronze tiger statue.

"Wait, what the hell is this?"

Matty looked confused for a moment. "It's a tiger."

"Yes, but why is there a tiger at Central Station?"

He chuckled, giving me a soft smile. "Oslo is also known as the Tiger City. Tigerstaden."

"Okay, that makes even less sense."

"It's based on an old poem, I think." He reached out and patted the tiger's neck. "I wouldn't think too hard about it."

There was no sign of Steve, so I walked around the tiger, trailing my fingers over it, appreciating its size and— "Wait a second. Are those balls?"

Matty did a double take before a laugh burst out of him. "Oh. Yes. Those are his balls."

"Is there a reason the tiger has giant balls?"

"I mean, he's a rather large tiger, don't you think? It would be stranger if he had small ones, wouldn't it?"

I buried my face in my hands to suppress my laughter. "You cannot be serious."

"What? You'd rather he not be anatomically correct? Or be female?"

I shook my head, tears springing to my eyes. I didn't know why but the concept of a huge, anatomically correct male tiger effectively being a city mascot was ridiculous. It wasn't like we didn't have similar things in America—there was the bull on Wall Street, after all. Still, I couldn't help my laughter.

"There you are!" Steve's voice cut through my laughing, and I took a deep breath to get myself together. When Steve made it to us, he looked from Matty to me and back. "Did we miss something?"

"Only a puritanical American shocked by anatomy." Matty tsked and shook his head, but the smile on his face was affectionate.

Brow furrowed, Steve looked at Brock, who could only shrug. "Okay, then. Let's review the plans for the day." We talked about our sightseeing trip, Matty's ideas about taking me to see the palace and the sculpture park, and some of the interviews and sound bites Steve wanted to get. When he'd finished talking, he instructed Brock to get some confessional footage of Matty. Once they'd started, Steve pulled me aside.

"What's wrong?" I was on high alert at once.

He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, exactly, but we need to inject some drama into the show. I don't mind following you two around being cutesy, but our viewers are going to need something a little more exciting if we want them to keep watching."

"Right." The viewers. I hadn't really thought of them. I mean, I knew logically that we were going to be on the show, but the practicality of needing to amp up the excitement for people who'd be watching along at home… well, it had gotten by me. "What do you suggest?"

He glanced over to see Matty still chatting away at the camera. "You'll think of something. I have faith in you."

Matty wrapped up and came over, cheeks pink. "Everything okay?"

I wasn't certain I'd be able to figure out just what to do to create some kind of commotion for the day, but I'd do my best. I took Matty's hand and nodded. "Everything's great."

For a while, we just walked, holding hands and chatting about nothing in particular. He took me along what seemed to be the main street of Oslo, stopping at shops along the way before we headed through a small park. Matty pointed to a massive building in the distance. "That's our first destination, the Royal Palace. I want to walk around the park behind the palace, too. It's beautiful there."

As we meandered through the square, passing tourist groups, people busking, and crowds of sightseers, an idea hit me. I slowed us to a stop.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. My gaze darted around the square until I spotted exactly what I was looking for. I squeezed Matty's hand briefly before releasing him. "I'll be right back."

I approached a busker, about our age, who held a guitar. When I explained my plan, he nodded enthusiastically, and I handed the musician a hundred kroner bill. I glanced at Matty, and he was frowning, furrowing his brow, as I took the guitar from the man and walked back toward Matty, Steve, and Brock.

"What—"

I held up a hand to cut him off. "Sit." I gestured to a stone bench and he sat without questioning me further. He probably knew better than to try to interfere with my schemes. We'd managed a little trouble here and there in high school. When I finally spoke, my voice was quiet, just loud enough for Matty to hear. If I hadn't had a mic on me, it would have been just between us. "I know it's been hard, being apart for so long. Us suddenly being together again, in the same space after all this time, has really helped me understand some things. I want you to know what I've been thinking."

I stepped back a bit, strummed the guitar a few times, and began to sing. The song, one I'd been working on during the trip, was about our relationship, one we'd cultivated across the Atlantic ocean, thousands of miles between us. My heart pounded as I sang, my gaze locked in on his, tears welling in his eyes. I wondered if he knew the words were real, a true representation of how I felt, or if he thought they were just for show. I ignored the gathering crowd and kept my gaze focused on Matty.

"Love's the language of their beating hearts," I sang, finishing softly. When the final notes ended, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Matthias Gunnar Solberg, thank you for being mine. I'm so honored to have you in my life."

"Thank you," he murmured. "I've lived here all my life and never noticed just how beautiful Oslo is to share with someone you love."

I grinned and my cheeks flushed. I didn't know how sincere he was either, but I was pleased the song had landed the way it needed to.

The crowd burst into applause and then dispersed. Matty stood and I removed the guitar from around my neck and shoulder, handing it back to its owner before pulling Matty close. He stepped into my embrace, our bodies touching. Matty pressed a palm to my body, my heart thudding in my chest against his hand. I dipped down and kissed him, soft at first, hesitant. Matty made a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat before opening to my kiss, inhaling sharply through his nose and sliding his tongue against my own. I buried the fingers of my free hand in the back of his shirt, and his hand came up to run his fingers through my hair.

We kissed for a long time, tenderly, the world disappearing around us. I gripped Matty's waist with my free hand, hooking in the waistband of his jeans and holding him close. When we finally parted, lips swollen and red, Matty laughed shakily.

"Well, then," I said.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to let you know how I was feeling, that's all."

Matty smiled softly, and I couldn't help but wonder if his smile was for the cameras or genuinely for me. "I'm glad you did."