The Matchmaker

by Catherine Walsh

Callum’s gaze snags on mine, and the feel of it is so intense that I almost look away. “Or maybe,” he continues. “It’s because I don’t know how I’m going to tear down your favorite place in the world when I can barely stand the thought of you getting caught in the rain.”

Green eyes, I decide. I like men with green eyes and men who look at me like that. Like I’m the only person in the world.

“This is weird, right?” “It doesn’t have to be,” he says. “We can pretend we’re two strangers, just like everyone else.” “We can’t do that.” “Why not?” “Because I’ve known you my whole life?” She shakes her head. “Don’t you want a real match?” she asks eventually, and he huffs like she said something funny. “Come on, Gem. It’s you.” And then, so quietly I almost miss it, “It’s always been you.”

“What are you doing?” “Dancing,” he says, moving me farther into the middle of the floor. “You said you’re a terrible dancer,” I remind him. “I’ve decided that I go where you go.”

“You told me once that Kelly’s was your favorite place in the world. Well, you’re mine. You’re mine and I’ll go where you go. For as long as you want me to, I’ll be right there with you.”

“You’re falling in love with me?” “Understatement of the century,” he mutters, rubbing his face like he wants to wake himself up. “Since when?” “I don’t know. Forever?”