Page 82 of Heart Match

How much can someone change you and mess up your life in a matter of two weeks?

Chapter Twenty-Four

I spend the next day dealing with my hangover, which is better than dealing with everything else. The girls leave after brunch, also hungover. Once they’re gone I grab my bottle of water and jump back on the bed, which I haven’t made since the last time Luc slept here. His T-shirts are still here, I should probably return them to him. I fish them out from under the pillow and sniff them before I do that. There’s probably a malfunction with my nose, because how does he smell like sex all the time?

I cover my face with one of his T-shirts. I stay way too long like this, searching for answers, thinking of possibilities, wondering about consequences, pondering my next steps. All the while taking in his scent.

It’s like he knows I’m thinking of him, because right then I get a message.

Today at 2:58 pm

Immune to tickles: I thought this might be helpful in case you want to press charges against him.

It’s a video from Josh when he’s jerking my arm, my body lurching with violent motion. It looks even worse than it felt at the moment. I can’t believe Luc got this on camera.

Me: Wow. Thank you for that.

Immune to tickles: No problem, I hope you can use it somehow.

I could. I now definitely have proof against Josh and he didn’t even need to leave another mark on my face. It’s probably proof enough to at least file for a restraining order to keep him away from me isn’t it? The question is, do I have the courage to do it this time?

I stop for a moment and stare at the ceiling, with the phone placed over my heart. Then I remember I’ve been wanting to know something Luc never got to tell me.

Me: Can I ask you something?

Immune to tickles: Yes

Me: When I told you how I pictured us, you said it wasn’t how you did. How did you picture us?

Immune to tickles is typing …

Two minutes later I hear a knock on my door. My heart takes a leap. Traitor. I push Luc’s T-shirts aside and head for the door. When I open it I find him with his forearm propped on the door frame, his forehead pressed against it. His eyes immediately lock with mine.

‘Together,’ he says.

For a moment I have no idea what he means by that, I’m too distracted trying to divert my eyes from the indecent Calvin Klein waistband showing. His joggers are hanging too low on his hips, and … goddamn it, why is he shirtless and barefooted? Then I quickly realise it’s his answer to my question.

‘I pictured us together. Cooking, eating popcorn, running, getting to know each other, travelling, sleeping together, making love,’ he says it with such calm I envy him, because on my side, I feel everything but stable.

I lean my head on the half open door and watch him for a moment. I have no idea what to say to that, I never imagined he would be so straightforward.

‘Come with me tomorrow, to the match,’ he says, filling in the silence.

I smirk, because this is so not a possibility for me.

‘I’m serious, Olivia. I know it’s too much to ask of you right now.’

Too much to ask is an understatement.

‘Yes, it is,’ I say.

‘I also know I fucked up by not telling you who I am. I know now how much it hurt you, and I don’t ever want to hurt you again,’ he says.

Seeing the hurt and hope in his eyes makes my whole body ache.

‘But you will, Luc. There’s no such thing as not hurting someone. Eventually we’ll hurt each other,’ I say.

‘I never said it won’t happen, I just said I never want to. We’re not perfect, we’ll make mistakes. As long as we’re there for each other and trust each other, we’ll make it work.’

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