Match Me by Liz Appel Page A

closer. “I’m a nice guy, right?”
    I nodded. He was the nicest guy I knew.
    “And I don’t mind helping people out, you know?”
    Again, I nodded.
    “But do you think any guy would do the things I’ve done for you, for a girl he just feels sorry for?”  He smiled, shook his head. “I bought, like, a year’s worth of tampons for you.”
    The waitress returned with two glasses of water. I gulped half of mine down in one swallow.
    “I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve never once expressed interest in me. Ever.”
    “Well, duh. You were with Chase. And when you weren’t with him, you were wanting to be with him. Doesn’t exactly bode well for the guy waiting backstage, hoping for a shot. But I figured if I hung around enough, you might get the idea. I didn’t realize I needed to hang a sign in front of you.”
    “But, other girls…” I thought back to high school, back to all of the times I’d seen him over the years since we’d graduated. “You’re always with someone, Paul. Always.”
    “Hey, I go out. Absolutely.” He played with the menu, folding it and unfolding it. “I dated a ton of girls. Dozens.”
    For some reason, I flinched. I didn’t want him to quantify.
    “But it’s only because I couldn’t find what I was looking for.” I looked at him and he offered me a smile. “I couldn’t find someone like you.”
    “So you’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been hung up on me? The way I’ve been hung up on Chase?”
    “Well, no.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I didn’t crash your wedding.”
    “I’m not getting married.”
    He chuckled. “Damn right, you’re not.”
    “But, if I had been?”
    “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t have thrown a shoe at you to get your attention.”
    “No?”
    He shook his head. “No. I would’ve thrown something heavier. Like an anvil.”
    I couldn't stop the smile that bloomed.
    And then something wet hit my nose. And another. I looked up at the sky. It was steel gray, balloon-like clouds threatening to burst.
    “It’s gonna pour any second,” Paul said, grabbing me and pulling me up.
    The skies opened and the downpour flooded us. I buried my face against his neck and breathed in. He smelled clean and warm, like spicy vanilla. His arms tightened around my waist.
    I turned my head to look up at him. His lips were a fraction of an inch away. And, like usual, I didn’t think. I just stood on my tiptoes and touched my lips to his.
    He didn’t taste like Chase and he didn’t kiss like Chase.
    He kissed like Paul. Tender. Thorough. And infinitely better.
    Reluctantly, I pulled away. My hair was plastered to my head and I was sure my mascara was running like a river down both cheeks.
    Paul didn’t seem to care. He planted a kiss on top of my head.
    “We should move inside,” he said. “You with me?”
    I nodded and held out my hand.
    “Yep. I’m with you.”
     
     
    THE END
     
     

Save Me
    by Liz Appel
     
    ONE
     
     
     
    Seeing my parents siting on my couch was never a good sign. I could count the number of times it had happened since I'd officially moved from my bedroom upstairs into the basement apartment. None.  None was a number I liked. One was a number that made me suspicious.
    I dropped my backpack on the round bistro table that served as my dining table.
    “Uh. Hi,” I said.
    My parents sat close together, their knees touching. Mom had her hands folded in her lap, a bright smile pasted on her face. My dad was thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmo, his eyebrows furrowed. In horror, I wondered if he was reading the cover article: His Burning Sex Need: Satisfy the Craving Your Man Won't Admit To .
    I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottled water. “What are you guys doing here?”
    There were firm rules in place to our living arrangements. I'd graduated from high school three years ago. To save money, we'd agreed for me to live in the basement as opposed to the dorms or my own apartment.