Page 63 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘Because you’ve been chaperoning me and Astrid all day.’
‘I haven’t!’ I lied.
Matthew pulled off his sodden jumper, stretched lazily and yawned; his T-shirt rose up at the side, exposing part of his abdomen. I tried not to dribble. For an arsehole, he was aggravatingly built.
‘Look, I know your sister will be mad at me. But I figured they could use a little space. She’s shutting out Aziz at the time she most needs him. So I bailed.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, trying to keep focused. That was thoughtful of him. I could see the start of a tattoo on his upper arm. When did he get that? ‘So, you, erm, want them to be together, then?’
Matthew stopped and gave me a seriously pissed-off look. ‘No, I’m just patiently waiting for things to go wrong so I can cop off with Astrid. Problem?’
I don’t know how he gets to be so arsey. It’s a perfectly reasonable concern given how attractive Astrid is and the fact she and Matthew are as thick as thieves. ‘No problem here,’ I said stiffly.
‘Anyway,’ said Matthew. ‘Things are definitely going to go wrong for you when Astrid gets back and finds out you’ve been doing a bong in her house.’
‘I haven’t!’ I said indignantly. ‘I’ve been burning sage.’
Matthew scoffed. ‘Did your journal tell you to?’
‘Yes. Problem?’
‘No,’ said Matthew. ‘No problem here. I mean ifThe Guidefranchise are comfortable exploiting vulnerable females with mental health issues, it makes complete sense to cash in via the cultural appropriation route too.’
‘Again, I am not a vulnerable female with mental health issues.’ I grabbed the box of Cook’s Matches and took aim at his head. But the glib twat caught them.
He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘No, definitely no anger issues here.’
‘Only where you’re concerned. I get on super-well with other people. In fact I—’
‘—Garner the respect and admiration of friends, family and colleagues?’ said Matthew, his eyes glinting.
‘You shouldn’t have been listening to that!’
‘Quite private is it then, manifesting?’ said Matthew conversationally. ‘Just seems like it crops up a lot on social media.’
‘Why don’t you piss off back to your hotel and go arrange face towels or something,’ I hissed at him.
‘No need.’ Matthew took a large crunch of an apple. He had very even white teeth. Like the devil. ‘I’ve got people who do that kind of work for me. How’syourjob going by the way? Secure? Pay rise? People know your name?’
I gasped in horror. Matthew Lloyd was insufferable.I looked at his smug, grinning face, his messy damp hair and his horrible tatty torn jeans and his wrist as he took another bite of apple. Hang on—
‘Is that a Rolex?’ I asked him, eyeing his wrist.
‘Well… yes. An old one.’
‘You are such a hypocrite!’ I exploded. After briefly dating Smarmy Sebastian the auctioneer a few years ago (he barked ‘going, going, GONE!’ before he came so that had to end), I happen to know that vintage Rolexes are exclusive and expensive, usually more so than new ones, and should not be worn by people who have holes in their jeans. ‘You’re all sanctimonious and dismissive and you’ve got aRolex, a model girlfriend, your own hotel, and you travel in helicopters – how much more obvious can you get in terms of status symbols? How dare you mock me for trying to get somewhere myself when you’re so privileged? Has it crossed your mind that some of usneedmanifesting?’
Matthew drummed his fingers on the island for a second. ‘I told you, Ebba isn’t my girlfriend. And yes, I may have a hotel, but I earned it. Nothing I’ve got has been handed to me on a plate, Alice.’
I couldn’t tell if he emphasised the ‘me’ when he said that. Was this him making a point again? ‘How come it bothers you that I grew up well off and yet you’re happy to be besties with Astrid and hang out with my family? It’s not my fault that I grew up like that any more than it’s yours you didn’t. Whatisyour problem with me?’
‘I never said I had a problem with you, Alice.’
‘Not directly to me. But what was it you said about me? Hmm. Let me remember. I think your precise words were,Alice is the quintessential spoilt, lazy youngest child who’ll probably read English because her mother went to school with the Head of Faculty so can get her in. She’s frivolous.’
‘When did I say that?’ asked Matthew, looking confused.
‘That summer you were doing your master’s. You were telling Ollie all the reasons why you found me unappealing.’
