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She gives me a smug look and I quiver with unspoken fear. Sometimes she’s like an all-knowing witch; seeing things the rest of us can’t.
“Mark my words, Little One. This man is already in love with you and if you play your cards right, you’ll be marrying him one day real soon.”
I sigh and shake my head at my mum. When Yia-Yia is like this, there’s no point in trying to reason with her.
“OK, Yia-Yia. You’ve got it all figured out. Now, how about some dinner?”
She jumps into action at the mention of food and I sink back into my chair as the two women in my life amble back to the kitchen to finish cooking what already smells delicious.
Once they’re out of sight, I dig my phone out of my bag and stare at it. Am I really going to do this?
“Here goes nothing.”
I type out a message. Let fate do its worst.
NATALIE to MATTHEW: I’m in.
CHAPTER 10
The days after I commit myself to the role of Matthew’s doting girlfriend pass in a blur. On the one hand, nothing changes. I’m still me, the girl who wears fluffy sweaters and messy buns. On the other hand, everything is different. The press is still following me around asking invasive and inappropriate questions, though true to Matthew’s word, they no longer stalk me at work, instead following me around grocery stores and petrol stations. Fun times. And when I’m at work, despite not being harassed by intrusive paparazzo, my colleagues are all treating me differently, while trying desperately to act like they’re cool with the situation. Meanwhile, their faces are clearly reading, “What’s he doing with her?”
In the spirit of trying to minimise potential damage from this whole fake dating debacle, I’ve chosen to tell nobody the truth. It’s less humiliating this way; I’d rather they pity me when we inevitably break up, than have them pity me for being foolish enough to enter into this in the first place.
“So, you and Matthew? You’re properly together?” Amy has been asking this question every day for the past four days, and truly her astonishment is stinging a little. It’s like the two of us as a couple is so unbelievable that she needs daily confirmation of our dating status.
“We’re keeping it casual. You know we’ve just reconnected, so it is early days.”
Matthew and I had decided this would be our party line on one of our nightly calls together. It seems close enough to the truth for people to buy it; though I needed to rein him in a bit. He was ready to declare our undying love for each other for the world to see.
“But,” she pouts. “You’re always here. When do you spend time together?”
My stomach clenches. She’s right and people are getting suspicious. And by people, I mean the nosy people on the daily talk shows. Why they’re so interested in us is beyond me, but I guess they are the reason I’m doing this in the first place.
“I’m going to his game tonight,” I tell her, turning to focus on re-stacking the gloves in all the trauma rooms. It’s one of the many tasks that get given to the lowest on the totem pole, i.e., me. But it hasn’t stopped me from loving being in the emergency department, soaking in all the knowledge that’s going to make me an excellent nurse one day.
Amy grins while helping me with this one-person task. “The game? You say it like it’s a little league soccer match. According to Oliver, it’s a super important match. We’re playing Japan, and this time it’s a must-win game.”
“So?”
“So?” she huffs. “So, he’s taking you to a very important moment in his life. This means he’s serious.”
I’d been worried about people reading it this way, but Matthew had eased my concerns, saying there’ll be over one hundred thousand fans at the stadium tomorrow. Who’s going to notice little old me?
“I think you’re reading too much into it.” I walk away to tend to the next trauma room. She follows.
“What are you going to wear?”
I hadn’t given this a single thought. “I don’t know? Jeans?”
She looks like she wants to shake me. “Jeans? That’s the best you’ve got? You do know as the girlfriend of the star of the team, you’ll end up on camera? Beamed into the living room of the five million people watching the match.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t thought of this. At all. “Surely you’re exaggerating.”
“Nat, the country is soccer mad and you’re the star’s new girlfriend. Just give your outfit more than one minute’s thought. Please.”
I nod, my palms now sweating. Even if I were to spend one hour thinking about it, I wouldn’t be able to find an outfit worthy of being on TV. Why didn’t I think of this earlier when I could have gone shopping? And why am I in this position in the first place?
In my next spare moment, I duck into the bathroom to send Matthew a message.
