Page 7 of Heart Match

I get up and cautiously go inspect my flat, feeling like the last zombie on Earth. Everything is as I left off, even the glass of water I had yesterday morning before heading to work. Then I spot something unusual again, my purse is hanging on the wardrobe. I never ever hang it there. It’s always either on the kitchen island or on the couch.

Shit.

It all comes back to me in a frenzy rush.

Cute guy.

I remember him holding me on the stairs, avoiding my fall and saving my face from horrible damage. Then him helping me finding my keys in my purse, getting in my apartment with me, and …

Oh God. He helped me vomit in the toilet. He might also have turned away when I decided it was time to finally pee. And … he put me to bed after dressing me in his T-shirt.

I check my body for any strange signs, but I’m intact. I take a quick peek at my face in the hall’s mirror and I almost scream in terror. My bangs look like I slept as a bat, upside down. Black smudges under my eyes. I’m a mess. Yesterday was a mess.

I drink a big glass of water and run to the shower. I’d normally be getting ready for my morning run, but today isn’t routine and this already drives me nuts.

After a long shower, I open the left side of my closet. It’s all there, perfectly arranged. I already feel calmer. My lingerie collection, my most loyal companions. Each set on their respective hanger. Thongs, hipsters, corsets, bras, bralettes, bodysuits—you name it. In every colour and material, all kept neat and clean, and scented with exotic black vanilla. There are no basic items apart from sports underwear, which are a necessary thing to have anyway.

Remember Carry Bradshaw and her shoes and clothes addiction—ok the woman was addicted to anything fashion-wise—in Sex and the City? In my life, I’m the Carry Bradshaw version of lingerie addiction.

I don’t only create them, I wear and live through them. How can I design the perfect lingerie without wearing and feeling them? Are these all my designs? Most of them, but I’ve got no boundaries or restrictions to a work well done, so I do wear lingerie from the competition, but I only keep the ones I really love. Once I’m happy with my pick, a grey lace hipster and matching bralette, I put on my summertime home office clothes: ripped cut-off jean shorts and a white cropped T-shirt. I grab my purse and head out to Fresh Me Up, the café across the street, where I always get a smoothie after my morning run.

It’s still quiet; there’s just a guy with a suit on the line in front of me placing his order. The usual two elderly ladies on a table by the window sipping their coffees and the woman that always sits on the couch in the far corner is focused on her computer. No one different than normal, just the background music that changes according to the season.

I don’t need to check the menu or today’s specials on the chalkboards behind the counter. I always get the same.

By 6:30 am I’m standing in front of Andi, the nerdy guy behind the counter who already knows my order. Ok, he’s not just a nerd guy—Andi knows my morning routine more than anyone else. Sometimes when I stop by after my run, he’s already prepared my smoothie. But no, he’s not that kind of guy, he’s much younger than me and this is his student job. Besides, he’s not my type, even though I have to admit he’s cute with those glasses and timid hazel eyes.

‘Make it double today, Andi,’ I say, already holding my phone to pay.

‘No running today?’ Andi asks as he begins preparing my order.

‘I’m hammered, if I go for a run right now I’m afraid I won’t survive what’s coming my way today,’ I say.

Andi chuckles as he begins placing the ingredients into the mixer.

Then I hear a now familiar voice from behind me, and I briefly wish to be buried deep under the Earth.

‘How are you feeling today?’

I turn around and it’s him, Cute guy. He’s taller than I remember, maybe because last night I had my heels on. He’s wearing a cap again, this time facing forward, almost hiding his beautiful blue eyes. He’s smiling down at me, and I feel my entire body blush. A memory from last night comes back as soon as our eyes meet. His warm hand soothing my back in circles as I spit fire. I also remember him carrying me in his arms and laying me on the bed, and as he does so his face is so close to mine I feel like swimming in his pool-coloured eyes. My heartbeat quickens a bit at the thought of it. This is the last memory I have before blacking out.

‘Hey. Hmm. B-better than last night,’ I stammer, completely embarrassed.

I can hear the mixer doing its work in the background.

‘That’s a start,’ he says with a smirk on his stubbled, sexy face.

God, I almost forgot the damn stubbles, and how fucking hot he is.

‘Here you go,’ says Andi, giving me my big green smoothie.

‘What are you getting?’ I ask Cute guy.

‘Which one is yours?’ he asks.

‘Green tea, spinach, coconut milk, parsley, frozen strawberries, hemp hearts, ginger and mint, no sugar,’ intervenes Andi, a strange big grin on his face.

‘It’s called Sweet Relief,’ I say, as if the name would matter.

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