Page 10 of Heart Match

‘Hey, are you getting some of the designs back? I might need new lingerie for the weekend.’

Sometimes I get to keep some of my designs, and the girls, of course, take full advantage of this. I don’t mind; in fact I love it. We always have fun trying them on, and they have fun wearing them.

‘Hmm, who’s the lucky guy?’ I ask.

‘Mmmm … Lewis,’ she says.

‘Whaaaat? Are you serious?’

‘Yep. I literally just asked him. What you said last night, it made sense. So instead of waiting, I decided to try. I already had a no for an answer anyway, so why not?’

‘How strange,’ I say.

‘What? Why?’

‘You following my advice …’

‘Shut up,’

‘Seriously, normally I’m the one following your advice, not the other way around.’

She laughs.

‘Right. Speaking of … are you gonna consider my latest advice?’

‘I gotta go. I need to head to the store and get some ingredients.’

‘Olivia!’ she hisses.

‘I’ll let you know when you can come over to pick your lingerie,’ I ignore her.

‘Right, thanks,’ she says. ‘And … Olivia?’

‘Yeah, Naomi?’

‘I don’t remember you ever cooking for any other guy before.’

‘Shut up!’ I say, fighting back a laugh.

‘Whatever, I gotta go too. I have a meeting. Use condoms. Tell me everything. Bye,’ she says, leaving me alone with my chuckles.#

He knocks on the door at 7:55 pm. I stop what I’m doing on the kitchen counter, the smell of black truffles in olive oil steaming through the air. I check my red lipstick on my very plump lips—thanks to my mum’s genes—on the mirror. Then fix my bangs to one side and open the door without thinking too much.

I’m facing him right now, and what I see makes me swallow hard and lose control over where my eyes are staring. He’s holding flowers for fuck’s sake, their intense pink colour is stunning and they look insanely expensive. But that’s not the main issue. He looks like a completely different person wearing beige Chino shorts, a navy-blue V-neck perfectly hugging his biceps, and white sneakers. It’s the first time I see him without a cap on. His dark hair is wet, messy and glossy, long enough to have some strands hanging over his forehead. He smells like every man should smell, I can tell you that much.

‘Hi,’ he says first because I still haven’t managed to speak.

‘Hi,’ my voice comes out sweeter and softer than I planned.

‘I thought about bringing you a bottle of rosé but considering your hangover I decided to bring you flowers rather than come empty handed,’ he says all this with one hand holding the bouquet, the other pressing against the door’s frame, right above my head.

‘Thank you, you didn’t have to,’ I say trying not to smile as widely as I know I’m smiling.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, then I realise I’m still holding the door half open and haven’t invited him to come in.

‘Who’s there?’ I roll my eyes, because I know this voice well. It’s my next-door neighbour.

Cute guy throws me a quizzical look.

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