Page 21 of Matched

“He’ll do you, you mean.” My cousin smirked at my sister, and her cheeks flushed.

“Shush! Don’t talk about that here.”

“Got you. We can talk more later.”

I gritted my teeth hard enough to make my head pound. Reaching for my glass of wine, I downed it, grimacing at the taste, and then poured myself another from one of the open bottles set out on the long table. I ignored the raised brows of my uncle as I topped up his drink as well as mine.

“One of those nights, is it?” he commented. “Go on, then. Might as well finish off the bottle. Fill those glasses all the way to the top.”

With a nod to acknowledge him, I split the rest of the bottle between both our glasses. I knew my uncle—not Renée’s dad, a different uncle—had gone through a messy divorce recently. As in, the ink was barely dry on his divorce papers. It seemed like we’d be commiserating together.

What the fuck, Nate? You’re not commiserating.

“Cheers.” He lifted his glass. Across the table, I heard Renée say something about Charlie’s thighs, and I swiped my glass from the table, a little of the wine sloshing over the edge.

“Cheers,” I muttered as I raised the glass to my lips and took a huge gulp, followed by another. I caught my dad’s eye, watching me with his brows pulled together. The last thing I needed was to attract his attention for acting out of character, so I lowered my glass and grabbed a bread roll from the basket in front of me. I methodically tore off pieces, not bothering with butter, chewing slowly as I tried to work out why exactly I had this same stomach-churning nausea I’d felt earlier in my dad’s kitchen.

Last summer, my dad decided to downsize to lower his mortgage payments and ended up buying a small two-bedroom house on the outskirts of Swindon. Sophie had the second bedroom, and I was on a camp bed in the small dining area that led off the kitchen because the front door opened straight into the lounge, and my dad hadn’t wanted me to be disturbed by people coming and going. Lying on the camp bed in the dark, with the glow of my phone charging providing a sliver of light to my left, I was still wide awake with my racing thoughts when I heard the front door open. A few moments later, the stairs creaked, and I exhaled as I rubbed my hand over my face. Sophie was back, and now I could sleep.

In theory, at least.

After another half an hour of tossing and turning on the tiny, uncomfortable bed, I gave up, reaching for my phone. Unlocking it, I scrolled through my social media, viewing Sophie’s stories. She’d posted a photo from the meal and a short video of her and Renée dancing with their friends in the club, holding up flutes of Champagne or prosecco. When I reached the end of the video, the next story automatically began playing.

Charlie’s story.

He was also in a club. I spotted Levi and his boyfriend, Asher, in the background as several of my teammates raised their glasses to the camera. Charlie had a wide grin on his face, mouthing something I couldn’t make out at the camera. I tapped the screen to like the video before I could think twice, and no more than a few seconds later, a notification appeared on my screen.

Charlie:

Still awake?

My lips curved upwards.

Me:

What gave it away?

Charlie:

You stalking my social media

Me:

You love me stalking you

Charlie:

If you want me to justify your life of crime, your gonna be waiting a long time

You’re, I mean

Me:

Yeah ok. Don’t forget to watch for those dark corners. I’ll be there ready to mug you when you least expect it

Charlie:

I told you before. You’ll be disappointed if you mug me. Why are you awake anyway? Was the birthday thing good?

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