Page 53 of Heart Match

‘Are you okay?’ he stares at me, worry all over his face. ‘You look scared. What happened?’

‘I …’ I trail off. He takes the smoothie from me and holds my hand. He presses his thumb into the middle of my palm, and begins rubbing soothing circles. The touch makes me come back to the present, it grounds me.

‘I just wanna go home,’ I say.

#

I don’t need to ask Luc to accompany me to me front door and wait for me to get into my flat. He goes in with me and pours me water. He watches me, patiently and understandably. He doesn’t demand any explanation nor ask me any questions. He’s worried, but he gives me space to breathe. I don’t think I’d handle this as well as he does. I’m not as calm and patient as he is.

‘Thank you,’ I say. My voice comes out shakily and frail.

He stays with me until I assure him I’m fine. He holds me tight and his embrace tells me he’s there for me, that I can count on him, no matter the circumstances.

After I take a good long shower filled with heavy memories I wish were erased, I come back to the kitchen and there are eggs and bread and orange juice on the kitchen island.

‘EAT ME!’ says the post it attached to the plate. I feel much better already. I even force myself to eat, and realise I actually needed it. It gives me the energy I need for the rest of the day.

I bury myself deep into work. In the afternoon, Luc texts me for the first time since we exchanged phone numbers. He’s asking how I’m doing, and I catch myself smiling at the name he chose for himself on my contact list.

Today at 3:44 pm

Immune to tickles: I’m glad you’re better. I was worried about you.

Me: Thank you for being patient with me, and thank you for breakfast. It was the best I’ve had in weeks.

Immune to tickles: where have you been eating your breakfast?

Me: laughing-with-tears emoji.

Immune to tickles: I’ll knock at yours later.

Me: Sounds like a plan.

Immune to tickles: emoji surrounded by tiny hearts.

Me: little monkey with hands on its eyes.

Luc’s profile photo is him with his boyish grin, tanned skin, white cap backwards and white Nike T-shirt in a sunny place. The sight of it is so amusing I let out a snort. I find myself craving to see him again, and anticipation taking over me.

#

Instead of letting the heavy feeling of today’s early morning haunt me for the rest of the day, I cheer myself up. I put on some music, sing and dance while I cook dinner. This might slightly have something to do with knowing that Luc might knock at the door any minute now.

I’m in the mood for some comfy food, so I bake meatballs in homemade tomato sauce, Grana Padano cheese and spaghetti. I’m pretty sure he will like it too, considering pasta is his favourite food.

But this time, he doesn’t knock. My phone rings and I see the picture he chose for his contact information, a selfie of him here last night, with my favourite grin on his face. My insides light up with warmth. I answer it and I’m pretty sure he can tell I’m smiling when I do.

‘Hey,’ I say.

‘You should check your front door,’ he says.

Curious, I immediately stop what I’m doing and go to the door. When I open it, Luc’s there.

‘Hi,’ he says, still with his phone pressed on his ear and the most mischievous smile on his face.

‘Hi,’ I say, also still with my phone in my ear.

We both put our phones away and he sweeps me up from the floor and carries me around the house, crashing his mouth against mine as if he hasn’t seen me in ages. I’m starting to get used to the way he enters my flat.

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