Page 14 of Matched Up

NIALL: There’s something very, VERY wrong with you.Why are you even still in the kitchen?

WhywasI still in the kitchen, standing there like some kind of voyeur?I went up to my room, where I did my homework, watched more football highlights, and wished so hard that I’d never walked in on Megan and Niall.It was times like this I was going to miss the most.After-school gossiping, doing hair, doing nails, even Sunday-night movies.And it was like she knew I was thinking about her because my phone vibrated.

MEGAN: Can we be friends again yet?

MEGAN: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you

MEGAN: I’m SORRY!

MEGAN: Please forgive me

MEGAN: I miss you

And even though my heart broke for our friendship, I couldn’t bring myself to message back.I stopped myself from writing something horrible in reply.But that was the best I could do.

7

Megan came back to ours after school the next day, like she usually did when we had practice.Usuallyshe’d be in my room with me getting ready, but now she was with Niall.I turned up my music and put extra effort into looking perfect.It was all I could do.I couldn’t train any harder, play any better, but I could put more effort into my looks, doing my hair, my make-up, wearing my most expensive under-layers and my new boots.I still might not look as good as Megan with her shiny dark hair and big brown eyes, but I could look like a betterme.

I left before them without saying anything.I couldn’t face another silent car journey.They could drive themselves.

The club was pretty much empty when I got there.The floodlights were on, and I felt immediately calmer.I walked into the middle of the pitch with a ball I’d found lying at the side and started to kick it into the net.Testing myself.Giving myself a target: top left, bottom right, whatever.And two times out of three I got it.

‘Nice shot.’

I spun round.And just like the other night, the world stopped for a second.There he was, on the other side of the fence.

‘Thanks,’ I said, putting my foot on the ball to stop it rolling.

He jumped over the fence and on to the pitch.He was wearing all black again.Black zip-up Adidas top, black track bottoms and the same battered black boots from Tuesday night.

I passed him the ball.

‘Sorry I had to go on Tuesday.If I’d missed the bus, it would have been ages for the next one and I needed to get home.’He kicked the ball back and I stopped it dead, one touch, then passed it back.

‘Where do you live?’

I had so many questions and that was the first one that came out.

‘Near Ferndale.You?’

We kept passing the ball between ourselves, getting closer and closer, so it would be even more obvious if I made a crap pass.

‘Seaport.Close.NotLane,’ I added.Then realized how stupid it sounded.My house was pretty big, but not as big as the mansions on Seaport Lane, like the one Hunter lived in.

‘Where’s that?’he asked, flicking hair from his face at the same time as pulling the ball up on to his toe and doing keepy-ups.

‘Just on the lough,’ I said.

He passed it back and I had to bring it down out of the air.

‘Very nice.’He smiled, but it was towards the ball.

‘How come you’re here so early?’

‘Harrison asked me to come down; said he’d go over some stuff during your practice.It’s pretty intense here.’

‘Yeah, “intense” is one word for it,’ I said.‘Where did you play before?’

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