Page 48 of Noticing Natalie

It’s MY book!

“You little thief!” I round around the kitchen island and shove the book into his chest. “You stole my book.”

His face flushes the deepest shade of red. He’s almost purple. “Ah, maybe?”

What is that answer?

“Why would you steal my book?” I’m baffled, annoyed and thrilled in equal measure. Matthew, the national superstar, has been carting my book around with him all these years. It makes no sense.

He turns away and takes two wine glasses out of the cupboard above the sink. “I took it because, back then, I thought you’d figure it out and have to come get it from me. Come and talk to me. You’d been pretty clear you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” The hurt look he sends me makes me wince. “But I knew how much you loved this textbook, so it was a chance to force you to talk to me. In the end, it didn’t work.” He looks so disappointed, like he’s reliving his failed plan from six years ago, that I move closer to him. So close that our bodies are almost touching.

I shiver.

“And then what?” My voice is husky, so unlike my normal voice. “You just kept it?”

He smiles and inches closer until our bodies are touching. Yes!

“I kept it because it reminded me of you.”

Somehow, the silence after this confession is loud. He wanted a reminder of me?

“Anyway, I’m not a stalker of anything.” He twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. “But the book came with me wherever I went, and when I looked at it, it reminded me of happier times.”

“With me?”

He tips my chin up with a gentle finger. “With you.”

In slow motion, his head dips to mine and then he’s kissing me. Like I’m a treasure that he’s found and will cherish. Like he wants to kiss me forever.

We continue for minutes, hours and days, lost in the pure sensation of a perfect kiss. So perfect that everything else melts away. Except my unfed stomach…

“Is that your stomach making those noises?” Matthew mutters against my lips with a quiet chuckle.

I shift away from him, pressing a hand against the rowdy beast. “It is. I told you; the Hulk wasn’t an exaggeration.”

His laugh grows louder, and he pulls me in for a hug. The biggest, warmest hug I’ve ever experienced. Forget the library. I want to live here now. In his arms. Forever.

“Then, let’s feed the beast.”

Matthew and I load up our plates with every flavour profile imaginable, take a seat at his rustic timber table, and eat and catch up on the past six years of our lives. Hours fly by as we move from mains to dessert—an array of chocolate favourites for me—and it feels like no time has passed. It was like this in high school, where we’d get lost in conversation about everything and anything. I’m thrilled that time and fame haven’t changed that. In fact, this older version of Matthew is even more entertaining than his teenage self.

“I should probably get you home,” he says, somewhat reluctantly after I’ve yawned for the tenth time in under a minute. “You must be exhausted.”

Strangely, even though I’ve slept less in the last two days than I have since I was studying for my final exams, I’m not tired at all. Actually, I feel energised in a way I’ve never felt before.

“OK,” I agree, though I don’t want to. “I can take an Uber home.”

He ignores me, helping me to my feet and half-dragging, half-carrying me to the door. OK, maybe I am more tired than I’d thought.

“Let’s get you home.”

I settle into the front seat of his car, not the one driven by Jerry, and marvel again at another perfect choice. His silver Mercedes SUV feels luxurious but isn’t flashy. Just like the man driving it.

“So, what’s next on our plan?” I force myself to ask as he navigates the quiet streets, taking us from his upmarket suburb of Brighton to my middle-class suburb of Preston.

“Our plan?”

“How long are we going to continue ‘fake dating’?”

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