Page 7 of Mr. Match

“I flaunt it quite enough, thank you,” I say, motioning her towards the door. “And there’s no way you’ll make your class if we stop at the theater for coffee. So I’ll walk you back on campus and we’ll grab one from the street vendor.”

“That’s no fun,” she says, slightly whiny. I open the door and we both walk through. “The whole point was cinnamon, Katya.”

“We’ll get cinnamon the next time you show up, providing that you have more time. You know the line over at the theater will be out the door at this time of day.”

I don’t really expect a fight from her. And I don’t get one. Lily is not too confrontational. Her opinions are as strong as anyone’s, but she’s rarely up for a fight. Especially when she knows I’m right.

So we twine our arms together and walk the three blocks down to campus, stopping at the corner of Laurel and College for a coffee.

“Did you hear about the zombie biker thing this weekend?” Lily asks, once we get our coffee and we’re headed towards her class in the Clark Building.

“Now why would I ever care about that?” I say, faking a smile as I take a sip of my drink.

“Oh, please. I know all about your sordid history, Katya.”

I almost choke. “What?”

“The tattoos?” She gives me a sideways glance from the corner of her eye. “Come on. You were into a guy like that once for sure. I never saw him, but I remember you sneaking out of the house after you thought I was asleep every time a motorcycle came near. And now that you’re back… well, why not hook up again? He’s still here, right?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I never had a biker boy. And no, that guy is not still here. He graduated a long time ago and moved away, just like everyone else.”

“Bummer,” Lily says. “Well, this is me.” She motions to the Clark Building. “Wish me luck on that presentation. If that stupid Brittany messes me up, I will kick her ass.”

“You will not.” I laugh. “I can’t even picture that in my wildest dreams.”

“I won’t, but I’ll want to.” And then she turns, waving over her shoulder, and disappears into a crowd of college kids as they all climb the stairs and enter the building.

I finish my coffee as I walk back the way we came. I won’t be able to put her off the Fort Collins Theater for much longer. It’s a very popular place with the students. It’s a restaurant, coffee shop, and theater. They have live events every once in a while, but mostly it plays those artsy indie films that always end up with awards only pretentious people know about. And this week, it’s a haunted house for Halloween.

But I won’t have to confront that place today and that’s the only thing that matters.

I will be taking the alley back to my building, unwilling to chance another trip down College in full view of Oliver’s office window. I want to look up there so bad as I cross the street, but it’s windy, so I duck my head into it and keep on track, turning left into the alley that will hide me for three blocks.

When I get back into my apartment, I take my clothes off again, tie the silky tea-green robe around my body, and get the camera from the safe.

I don’t edit it. I wasn’t recording the audio and I know my face was not in the frame, so why bother. There’s really nothing on there but his words on my breasts.

It’s enough. It’s always been enough.

I open my laptop, pull up the website, Hook-Me-Up, and log in.

No messages flash from my little mailbox icon in the upper right corner, but that’s not surprising. My profile is private.

What does take me by surprise are the little red “like” hearts and the one-new-view alert on each of my three previously uploaded videos.

Someone watched them.

And they left me a video response in the closed comments.

Chapter Three - OLIVER

“Your fucking sister, man. You need to rein her in.” Corporate says those last few words with staccato emphasis, like he’s on edge.

“Which one?” I sigh. Fucking sisters. And then I press send on the video I just made, sitting back in my chair, enthralled with the idea that Katya Kalashova will be watching it very soon.

“Ariel,” West says, throwing up his arms and then walking across the room to slump down on the couch placed against the far wall. “How in the hell does she insert herself into my life like she’s been there forever? Did you know she and Tori are suddenly BFFs?”

“Hmmm,” I say.