Page 20 of A Match Made In Evan
Henry, meanwhile, is frowning. “Isn’t there a cricket team called the Gold Coast Thunder?”
Connor makes another face. “Who cares about cricket?” He yawns dramatically. “Boring.”
I reach out to high-five him because, yeah: cricket is boring as fuck. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a torture device, not a sport.Like, if I had any sort of super confidential information, that would be the way to get it out of me. In fact, I’d rather watch paint dry while having each of my toenails removed by force.
‘No, no, please no. Don’t make me watch cricket. I’ll tell you anything you want!’
I fight the urge to snicker at my own internal thoughts.
At least they’re not about James.
Ah, fuck it.
***
Strangely, the next time we see each other, things aren’t awkward. I thought they might be, but James greets me the same way he always does, and conversation flows as easily as always, too.
Today’s event for the school is simple tuckshop duty. We’re assigned to assist with another couple. Like the school, the tuckshop is run with military precision. We each have our roles assigned to us for the day, with me serving at the window and Jay packing orders, then all of us doing clean up and stocktaking, the couple of hours of mandatory volunteering are over relatively quickly.
James’ phone pings as we make our way back through the school grounds and to his car. He reads the text, then looks at me. “Mia wants to sleepover at Rose’s tonight.”
“It’s a Friday, so why not?” I ask with a shrug. “Sounds better than when she was dating whatshisname.”
“Christian,” he replies, distractedly, typing out a reply on his phone. “And they only went out three times before she enrolled here.”
“And she hasn’t gone out with anyone since?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Shereallywants to get into NIDA, so everything’s about getting noticed for her drama skills.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket. “She says she has a change of clothes and a spare charger in her bag. I reckon they’ve been planning this all week.”
“Give them a bit of credit,” I laugh, stepping up to the passenger side of his car, “they would have come up with the plan last night. Otherwise, why wouldn’t she just ask at the beginning of the week?”
“True,” he acknowledges as we both climb into our seats. The doors close with muted thuds. “Well, my night just opened up. What are your plans?”
My stomach flips, flashbacks of the night at camp getting me all excited despite my best attempts tonotmake things weird or get my hopes up.
“I was gonna go home and go over some ledgers for work, but that’s sounding less and less appealing.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Pizza and beer at my place?”
I lean my head back and make an exaggerated drooling sound à la Homer Simpson. “You’d better not be fucking with me,” I warn him. “You know pizza is my weakness.” Carbs and cheese for life, and all that.
“I promise. I’ll even buy.”
Folding my hands over my chest, I mime swooning, “Be still my heart.”
***
The pizza is, as expected,justwhat I needed. Delivered piping hot, the cheese is perfectly oozy, and there’s an explosion of sauce and grease and deliciousness in my mouth on my first bite.I moan my enjoyment before James has even closed the door on the delivery guy.
“You sound indecent,” he complains, but he’s laughing as he steals the box from my hands and opens it to snatch his own slice of pepperoni-topped goodness.
“You’d know,” I mutter around my mouthful without thinking.
He freezes with his drooping triangle of perfection held halfway to his mouth. His cheeks flame and he averts his gaze. “I thought we weren’t talking about it.”
Fuck.
I polish off my slice quickly, doing the ‘ha ho ha ho’ of having put something far too hot inside my mouth as I chew. Swallowing, I hold my hands in surrender. “Sorry,” I tell him, “But…Idowant to talk about it.”
