Page 65 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘No way. You’ll ruin it for me. I’m not doing anything with you.’
‘Come on,’ said Matthew, raising his eyebrows. ‘You can’t hate methatmuch. I promise I’ll do whatever you tell me to.’ He scratched his jaw, revealing the edge of his tattoo again.
‘DowhateverI tell you to?’
He gave me a slow smile.
Bloody great. Now he thought I fancied him and was thinking about him servicing me sexually. Which I wasn’t. And now I also wasn’t thinking about whether he smiled like that when he was— Fuck. No.
‘Not like that!’ I said, crossly.
‘I didn’t say anything,’ he replied, grinning. ‘Your face did though.’
Self-satisfied, overly confident, unfairly good-looking prick. I was starting to feel uncomfortably hot and a little bit on the brink, like I did at my eighth birthday party, right before I criedbecause I came second in musical chairs. I busied myself by getting a glass of water from the fridge, brushing past Matthew crossly, and then making sure my back was towards him and he couldn’t see my face.
But clearly my back is communicative too because I could tell from his voice that Matthew had stopped grinning. ‘Alice?’ he said, coming closer to me.
‘Piss off. I wasn’t thinking about you like that. I’m seeing someone actually. Someone really eligible, FYI.’
‘Yeah, Astrid mentioned,’ said Matthew. ‘Your boss with hairy knuckles that was shagging your friend?’
‘Well, I’m glad Astrid filled you in,’ I said quietly, wondering just how much more humiliation one person could take. Plainly I was just a joke to my entire family.
‘Alice?’ he said.
I didn’t answer.
‘Don’t go all silent on me.’
I still didn’t answer. I just stared ahead and listened to the raindrops drumming on the roof light and the ticking of the refrigerator and tried not to focus on his physical proximity. He waited a second and then gently jostled me. ‘Alice. Can we just get on? Even if only for tonight? Look, if you’ve got something else on, I’ll back off. But if we’re both here, we could hang out together. I genuinely want to hear about manifesting if it’s important to you.’
Oh golly. Was Matthew Lloyd trying to be nice? Now I really felt on the brink. I gulped my glass of water and tried to regain some self-control.
‘Fine.’ I set my glass on the island, putting some distance between me and Matthew. ‘But I’m not spending any time withyou unless you give me wine and tell Astrid you took it. And you’ll have to take the blame for burning the sage.’
‘Okay,’ said Matthew, going over to the wine fridge and selecting a bottle. It was the shit one without the label I’d picked up from the bargain bin at the Tesco Metro. ‘How about this?’
‘Er, maybe not that one?’
‘Why not?’
‘I bought it as a thank-you gift for Astrid. It’s, erm, special. Why don’t we try one of those Petit Chablis?’ I’ve been desperate to try those but Astrid said they were a corporate gift and they were to be appreciated, not necked by someone like me.
‘Oh no. I think you deserve something special yourself. That Petit Chablis is decent, but you’ve certainly pushed the boat out here. It looks like a really wonderful vintage. Can’t I unscrew it and serve you a lovely glass?’
‘No, seriously, Matthew,’ I said, panicking he was going to make me drink the shit I’d bought. ‘I’d rather have the Petit Chablis.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Matthew grinned at me. ‘Astrid warned me it would be paint stripper and not to open it because she was saving it to make you drink as payback. Do you want me to pour it down the sink?’
Sneaky Astrid. She acted like she was really pleased when I gave it to her. ‘Er no,’ I said, taking the bottle from him. ‘No need to waste wine. Might need it sometime.’ Clearly Matthew, with his hotel bar, had forgotten how normal people are obliged to keep shit wine, cooking sherry and gross holiday spirits on hand for emergencies.
Matthew looked quizzical then turned back to the wine fridge.
‘But thanks for the heads-up,’ I said.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Matthew, opening a bottle of Petit Chablis.
About half an hour later and nearly one bottle of Petit Chablis down (really nice, by the way, a bit like those sour peach Haribos, so Astrid’s wrong, as patently I can and do appreciate fine wine), I was feeling relatively relaxed even though I was hanging out with Matthew. Maybe it was the wine, or the background lullaby of raindrops on the roof, or the gentle undulating flame of the posh candle, but it all felt quite spiritual and womb-like. I was barely bothered by the pins and needles from sitting on the floor for so long. Or the ache in my back.
