Page 26 of If We Were Young

“Shall we?”

Amanda caught my attention, waving across the room, distracting my thoughts of interrogation tactics. I filed them away for later when I could stew on them for an appropriately endless amount of time.

“Let’s.”

I walked for Amanda, ignoring the wobbly jelly in my stomach and trying not to focus on the brooding shape behind me. Not easy. Not easy at all.

“Ah, Ronnie, I see you’ve met Matthew already.” Amanda stood, smoothing out her sage- green dress and she leant towards me giving me a brush of an air kiss. She nailed impeccable down to the shortest hair on her head. She could have strolled out of the pages of Vogue and straight into the bistro.

My pink shirt stuck to the sweaty skin of my stomach.

“Uh.” I don’t actually know what to say. “Sort of,” I said, erasing with two careless words any sentiment I had buried deep inside. In a way it was true. Apparently, I didn’t know him at all. “Uh…”

Lame-arse quicksand pulled me down so fast I couldn’t shoot an SOS into the sky to save my mortified soul.

Ronnie. Pull it together.

What I needed was the whoosh of a lift door. The comforting click of a hotel room lock I could hide behind. He sighed and then answered for both of us. I couldn’t hear him over the static in my ears as I stared at his lips. “Veronica and I were acquaintances at university.” The rumble of his voice, although it held little similarity to the one I held onto in my memories, set off a firecracker in the pit of my stomach.

Veronica.

Acquaintances?

“Oh yes, Matty. I remember you said you went to uni here in London. What a coincidence.”

“Indeed it is.” He shifted behind me and I fought the desperate urge to glance behind and see the expression on his face. It was a lie what they said about parents having eyes in the back of their heads. You don’t give birth and grow another pair. Pity.

Then I noticed the way she looked at him, her gaze bordering on pure unbridled adoration and her words registered; Matty. No one called him Matty. I might stab her.

Territorial Ronnie needed to back off.

He’s no one to you anymore. I focused my thoughts on the crew in the office who were all waiting for me to get back and tell them how amazing this job would be. If I stabbed the client to death with a butter knife, the chance of it panning out the way we wanted were slim.

“Such a coincidence.” I tittered a laugh which would make me roll my eyes if I heard it from someone else and sat down on the chair opposite Amanda’s, leaving him to take the third.

The chair had a good view of the ladies. Obvious reasons.

I failed to not notice him peeling off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair before sliding down onto the red velvet. I also failed to not notice the way his white shirt shifted around his arms—wider than my dream Matthew owned. I definitely didn’t notice the stretch of his long legs as he flexed himself into a comfortable position.

Acid clawed my throat. My pulse sped so fast my temple ached.

Why was he here? Why was he doing this to me… making me breathe the same air as him and not acknowledging the fact we knew each other?

Trying to be discreet, I breathed in through my nose and slowly out through my mouth.

He reached for a jug of water on the table, his face a calm mask, and poured some into a glass, sliding it across the table towards me while remaining focused on whatever Amanda blabbered on about. I had no idea what she was saying. “Thanks,” I muttered, trying not to look at his face.

Pouring another glass, he didn’t miss a beat as he took a sip.

I stared at the one he’d pushed in front of me, his fingers imprinted into the condensation. I wondered if I placed my fingers in the exact same position if it would be like holding hands.

Holding hands with Matthew; one of my favourite things.

I jumped as a movement brushed my fingers under the table. My palms were down on my jeans, skin slicked with sweat. The chair almost vibrated as I shook. The touch moved further, homing in, lifting my shaking hand and clasping it tight. I wanted to pull away. I was disgusting, so sweaty and clammy, but I met his glance and he shot me a wink. My fingers squeezed back, and my poor little heart raced a marathon in my chest.

I snapped back from a long-locked memory and looked at Amanda wide-eyed, no clue what her jumble of words meant. I hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

Matthew was here; it was all could think, feel.