Page 1 of Heart Match

Chapter One

This could be the most humiliating moment of my adult life. I’m kneeling on my bathroom floor, trying to aim the acid that keeps flowing from my mouth into the toilet while struggling to maintain my composure—but failing miserably. The problem is, I’m not alone. There’s a guy who I’d never seen before until a few moments ago next to me making soothing circles with a warm hand on my back, the other holding my hair back.

Oh God. I swear I’m never drinking with an empty stomach again.

Though my body demands my attention, my mind is reeling. I wish I could blame Lexi and Naomi—my best friends—because now our conversation keeps replaying in my head like a broken record.

The vomit that keeps coming up my throat pushes my thoughts away and I try to focus on the gentle hand comforting me to keep me grounded.

I try to tell him that I’ll be fine alone, but just then I heave once again. I hope this was the last because not only is it embarrassing, it hurts. It’s hard to believe there’s anything left in my stomach considering I only had breakfast today. Oh and rosé, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t even be in this situation. Did I mention it’s Monday night?

God, how did I get here? And how am I going to fix it?

Two hours earlier

I’m with Naomi and Lexi at The Rose & Thorns, the pub we’ve frequented since we were college students. With its dark blue walls, pale green bar counter and oak tables—an attempt to make it modern, chic, but at the same time not losing the feel of a London pub, which in my opinion is impossible given the strong smell of stale beer and the sticky surfaces.

I summoned them for an emergency meet-up. I needed to rant about my boss—again—and my fiasco of a day.

‘Oh honey, I’m sorry. I know how hard you’ve been working on this project, we’ve barely seen you in the past weeks,’ says Naomi, touching my arm reassuringly.

The pub is actually busy for a Monday night, but not busy enough for people to occupy all the free tables, still, we choose to sit on the high bar stools, our favourite place—closer to the booze and the cute bartenders.

‘I just … can’t believe it happened again, you know?’ I mutter, running my finger over the rim of my glass.

Caleb—my co-worker and friend—and I have been working day and night on this project with the team for the past six months. And for what? Why work in the creative market if you aren’t allowed to be creative in the first place?

‘But didn’t she like the designs? I mean, they’re amazing,’ says Naomi as she orders us another round of drinks.

For some reason there is glitter in her short thick curly hair. That’s so her. That’s so part of her job as a social media consultant. It involves all kinds of photo shoots and props, ranging from glitter to paint to confetti.

‘She did, but it doesn’t matter. She wants us to go for another approach. She said, “Forget eco-friendly for now”.’

‘That sucks, Livvy. Why is it so hard for brands to embrace anything eco-friendly?’ says Lexi, playing with her blonde ponytail with one hand, the other holding her strawberry frozen margarita.

‘It’s expensive, that’s why,’ I say, watching the cute bartender mixing up some blue coloured cocktail for one of the girls sitting next to us. He’s cute.

According to Haley—my boss—our ideas are too innovative for the brand guidelines and image, not to mention costly. The company doesn’t want to risk trying different designs and materials when the traditional ones already sell beyond expectations, which I suppose makes sense for them, but not for me. I want more. I want different. And I want to do the environment good along the way.

‘You guys, I think I finally need to admit I’m starting to hate my job,’ I say it aloud for the first time ever since I joined Secretive. I blame it on the rosé stirring in my empty stomach.

Both Naomi and Lexi stare blankly at me. I can’t really read their expressions. They each sip on their drinks, studying me. Lexi has these thick long eyebrows that normally meet in the middle of her forehead if she doesn’t pluck them, they usually give me a sign of what she’s thinking, but not tonight. And Naomi has these inquisitive big green eyes that are almost never impassive like they are as she stares at me.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘Nothing,’ they both say in unison, and almost imperceptibly looking at each other.

Hah, I noticed that.

When they look at each other this way it’s because they want to tell me something that I don’t want to hear.

‘It’s just, you don’t hate your job, c’mon. You’re just working for the wrong brand,’ says Naomi.

I knew it. Naomi and Lexi have been trying to convince me to quit my job for the past year. Saying what I just said only adds to their list of arguments.

I roll my eyes and tip back the rest of my rosé, because I know where this is going, a possible intervention.

‘This was one of your most amazing works. I mean, eco-friendly luxury lingerie?’ says Naomi.

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