Page 50 of Matched

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to remember the reasons why nothing could happen between us again. Sophie. Plymouth.

Nate Glover was off limits. I needed to remember that.

“Charlie?”

Nate’s voice broke me out of my thoughts, and my eyes widened when I took in his score. He’d played even worse than I had, and I’d somehow managed to beat him by a whole fifteen points.

“I win!” I fist-pumped the air. “I’m the pinball king!”

“Congratulations.” He gave me a slow, exaggerated clap. “Want a medal?”

“I’d prefer a trophy. Can you have it engraved?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Shaking his head, he bit back a smile. “A fucking trophy. Honestly.”

“I took my crown back. That’s worth celebrating.” Downing the remains of my pint, I scanned the room. “Do you feel like continuing your losing streak? We haven’t played on those basketball things yet.”

“Do you feel like losing to me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” I strode past him. “I can’t hear you over the sound of applause.” Spinning around, I walked backwards for a few paces, throwing my hands out. “Your pinball king and tournament champion, everyone!”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his smile too wide to bite back. “Cocky little shit.”

“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.” I studied the basketball game. For all my talk, I didn’t have any talent for this particular game. It consisted of a basketball hoop against a backboard, the whole thing surrounded by netting. The object was to sink as many baskets as possible before the timer ran out.

Maybe Nate should go first so I could get some tips.

“Want to go first?” I suggested, batting my lashes at him.

“Stop that thing with your eyes.” He shook his head. “Anything to throw me off.”

“Me? I was only asking if you wanted to go first.”

“Yeah, okay.” He rolled his eyes. “But if you insist, I’ll go first. Watch and learn from the master.”

Stepping back, I watched as he got the game set up, tossing the basketball between his hands as he calculated the trajectory he’d need to sink the basket. Or at least that was what I assumed he was doing.

When I dropped my gaze, a glint of metal caught my eye. Nate’s phone was in his back pocket. If I could time it right… I needed to be quick, before he realised what was happening.

Waiting until he’d sunk his first basket and then picked up the ball again, I launched myself forwards, my hand closing around the top of his phone?—

His entire body jerked as I made contact, knocking into me, and I was completely unprepared. I fell backwards with a gasp, my ass hitting the floor, hard, punching the breath from my lungs.

“Ow. Fuck. That hurt,” I cried from my position sprawled out on the floor. Quickly, I climbed to my feet, my face on fire. It was lucky this place was quiet and the only person to witness my fuck-up was Nate.

Nate, the absolute asshole who was collapsing into laughter against the side of the basketball machine.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he wheezed.

“I was trying to pickpocket you. Clearly, it didn’t work out the way I planned.”

“Bloody hell, Charlie.” He took several deep breaths, composing himself, and although he was still struggling to hold back laughter, concern appeared in his brown eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a bit painful. My ass took the impact.”

“C’mere.” Stepping forwards, he unexpectedly pulled me into him, his hands sliding down my back. “Let me make it better.”

“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mumbled against his neck. How had we ended up so close? And oh— His hands. His hands had dropped even lower and were now stroking over my fucking ass, massaging it like it was acompletely normal thing to do.

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