Page 3 of Matched

“Yeah. So you know how I mentioned no photos so people aren’t biased when they pick? It’s the same thing with names. Even if you just put in your first name, if you’re, like, well known at uni or if you have an unusual name, then your match might guess who you are, and that’s gonna lead to more bias. I want my app to literally just be about finding someone you have things in common with, without looks or preconceptions playing a part in it.” He sighed. “Fuck. Is this a bad idea?”

I instantly shook my head. “No, it’s not. I think you’re onto something. Fuck knows, I always pick girls because I like the way they look. I mean, yeah, I’ve had things in common with all my girlfriends, but I wouldn’t have spoken to them if I hadn’t been into them physically.”

“Yeah, and okay, physical attraction is important, but sometimes you have to get to know someone before you find them attractive or whatever. Or you might go on the date and be talking, and then think, huh. This person is actually hot or someone I want to get to know better.” He shrugged. “At the least, you might get a new friend out of it. Someone who shares your interests.”

“Alright. Get the app installed, and we’ll see what happens.”

2

Propping my bike up against the brick wall, I double-checked theMatched LSUapp before returning my gaze to the neon sign over the glass door. The Game Room. Yep, the location was definitely correct, and the app was showing me a green check mark next to the username of my date, which meant Green41 had arrived. The only other person around was a guy leaning against the wall, so she must be inside.

Hang on. I did a double take, scanning the guy again, trying to place him. I knew I recognised him from somewhere…

He was probably somewhere between eighteen and twenty, dressed in loose shorts and an Adidas T-shirt, with a messy mop of brown hair, slightly lighter than mine, and angular features. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he stared down at his phone.

“’Scuse me, mate.”

The guy gasped, his eyes widening, flitting to mine before they flew back to his phone. He blinked rapidly and then laughed as he straightened up. “Fuck. Sorry. You scared me. I was in my own world; didn’t even realise there was someone else out here.” His amusement was suddenly wiped away as his eyes widened even further, his gaze darting around us. “Look, I don’t have any money. My phone’s not even a good model…I bet it’s not even worth a tenner second-hand. Twenty, max.”

It took me a second to parse through his jumbled mess of words, and then I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Loudly. “Do you think I’m about to mug you or something?”

He blinked again, eyeing my hands cautiously from beneath his lashes as he slid his phone into his pocket. I made a point of spreading my fingers in case he thought I was planning on punching him or grabbing his phone or something. “You’re not?”

I snorted. “Do I look like a mugger to you?”

“Yes,” he said instantly. What the fuck?

“How?”

“You have a bike.”

I was instantly offended on behalf of all cyclists, even though some of them were fucking assholes. The reason I’d ridden here was because it was close to my student house, and I didn’t have to waste time waiting around for an Uber if my date went downhill. I rarely drove my car anywhere in London. There was no point with the extortionate parking charges and difficulties getting a decent space, not to mention the daily congestion charge.

“Having a bike makes me a mugger, does it?”

The guy huffed out an impatient breath, shaking his head. “No—I didn’t mean— Fuck. There’s been all that stuff in the local news about those bike muggers that snatch people’s phones, you know? Obviously, I don’t mean that every single person whorides a bike is a mugger. But I heard the gangs were using younger people who looked, you know, fit or whatever.”

“Wow. I’ve gone from a uni student to a member of an organised crime gang in the space of five minutes. Give me a second to phone my friends and tell them about my career change.”

“Will you be using one of your stolen phones?” Finally, he cracked a smile, and my lips curved upwards.

“This is genuinely the weirdest conversation I’ve had. Not counting the random ones when I’ve been high.” I stepped closer to him, lifting my phone in the air so he could see it clearly. “Look. My own phone, that I didn’t steal from a poor, defenceless person.”

He stared at me, his gaze scanning my face as he properly took me in for the first time. “Are…are you Nate?”

My brows flew up. “Do we know each other?”

“Yeah. Uh, no. Not really. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken, but I live with Ander and Levi.”

So that was why he looked familiar. Ander and Levi were two of my football teammates, which meant we probably would’ve crossed paths at one of the house parties or post-match celebrations.

“I guess I should introduce myself properly. I’m Charlie. Charlie Brooks. Um…I’m a first-year student studying sport and exercise science. I live with Ander and Levi.” He laughed, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “I dunno why I said that again. You already know that.”

“Charlie. Hi. Yeah, I’m Nate Glover, and I’m in my final year of a degree in architecture. I’m on the football team, which you obviously know, and—and I support Glevum FC.” I added the last part in the hope that it would make him less uncomfortable, and an involuntary smile tugged at my lips as I watched his mouth fall open.

“You supportGlevum? Fucking hell, I didn’t think there were any of us here at LSU. Most of my friends support one of the London teams or Liverpool.” He pulled a face.

“Or one of the Manchester teams,” I added, making him groan. “I can’t believe I’ve found another Glevum supporter here in the wild.” It was…unexpected, to say the least.

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