I pedal fast, gliding down the road. The place where I live can be kind of beautiful sometimes; there’s a long stretch of road that runs along the coast from right outside my house for miles all the way to Howth, a small seaside town about a twenty-minute car ride outside the city. I cycle all the way there and back again, my entire body dripping with sweat by the time I get home.
As I walk into the house, I hear Jay cooking up a storm in the kitchen. In an effort to avoid him, I sneak back out and go around the side of the house to leave my bike in the shed. He must see me through the window, because he opens the sliding doors and steps out.
“Matilda, I’m making all the best hangover foods for you. I hope you’re hungry.”
I take a deep breath, shutting the door of the shed and turning around. He comes toward me, taking in my cycling gear and my sweaty, hung-over self. I wonder what I look like to him right now.
“Morning,” he says simply.
“Morning.” I move to walk by him, but his arm flies out, blocking me.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You seem off.”
I wipe my forehead and drink some more water from the bottle I’m holding. “I’m tired. I just cycled about twelve miles.”
Jay whistles. “Did you work it off?”
“Huh?”
“Whatever you were trying to work off,” he elaborates, reaching out and running a finger down my neck. “Sweat suits you,” he murmurs, almost absently.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but it was a good workout. Did you say something about breakfast? I’m starving,” I prattle on, and walk around him, going inside.
He sets a plate down in front of me, and it looks delicious. My stomach rumbles at the sight. “You’re being awkward, and you need to stop it,” he tells me firmly.
“I’m not being awkward.”
“Oh, yes, you are, and I’m not having it. So you tried to kiss me last night. You were drunk, Watson. It’s fine. Everybody gets a little kissy when they’ve had a few.” He winks.
“Yeah, well, I apologise for getting kissy,” I say, scowling, and he laughs, pulling a chair out and sitting down. My phone goes off then, vibrating with a message. I pull it out of my pocket to find it’s actually an email alert. I check it out and see that it’s from Owen, the chef. He responded to my message! My heart lifts. He wasn’t avoiding me like I thought.
A smile shapes my lips as I read what he’s written. He wants to meet up today for lunch. Oh, wow. That’s so soon. Then again, what with the current Jay situation, it’s probably the ideal distraction.
“What are you grinning like a fool for?” Jay asks as he chews.
I send Owen a quick response telling him I’ll be there and then slide the phone back in my pocket. All the while I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to meet up with a stranger. “Uh, I just agreed to go on a date,” I reply shakily. “Today.”
Jay doesn’t say anything for a while, just silently watches me while he eats. “Is this an online thing?”
“Yeah.”
“You should let me check out his profile, make sure he’s not some creep.”
“Eh, I think I can determine if he’s a creep or not on my own. And he’s not. He’s a chef.”
“Well, la di fucking da. I still want to check him out, Matilda. He’s a stranger. It’s not safe. On second thought, why don’t I be your escort?”
I laugh out loud at that. “Okay, I’ll just ask my dad along, too, make it a big family day out,” I reply with sarcasm. “You’re not escorting me, but if you like we can exchange numbers, and I’ll call if anything goes wrong. We’re going to be in a public place, though, so even if he is weird, I can easily slip away.” I don’t bother to point out that Jay was a stranger to me not too long ago. In fact, I still don’t know that much about him.
“Fine, give me your phone,” he says, holding his hand out for it. I hand it to him, and he pulls his own out. As he programmes his number in, I carry on eating my breakfast. He’s taking a little long, though, and when he gets this smug look on his face I know he’s snooping.
“Give me my phone back now, Jay,” I say, reaching across the table. I swipe for the phone, but he holds it out of my reach.
“This guy is a complete douche, Watson. He talks to you like he’s trying to arrange a business transaction.”
I jump out of my seat now, determined to get my phone back. I grab it, but he pulls on it, swinging his arm around, and I go flying, landing smack bang on his lap. “Give it back, Jay. You’re being invasive,” I plead, getting upset. I really don’t like him reading my messages. It was funny at first, but now it feels like he’s laughing at me.