The Matchmaker

by Kitty Parker

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  "Really, Mr. Robinson, that's very interesting," I interjected weakly into the man's deluge of words, griping my fast deteriorating patience all the harder. Not that he could see it, because of course, on the surface I looked completely absorbed by his pointless boasting. I had been raised in this, after all, and my mask was damn near perfect, same as most everyone else here. But underneath my earnest façade, my anger smoldered. This was all so stupid. He had been talking for well on ten minutes, and he had yet to say anything worth hearing. I didn't think that was even possible.

  I took a long sip of my drink, willing the boredom to the back of my mind. Emma didn't know how lucky she was to have fled when she did. Of course, she was allowed to disappear. As the hosts' son, I was stuck on display. Emma was still probably floating around somewhere, though; maybe I could find her for some amusement. I thought I saw her speaking to Mrs. Wayne a while back…

  Through the haze of my ennui, I felt more than saw a presence reappearing beside me. "Hey," a soft voice breathed in my ear, "Let's blow this joint."

  I swallowed a smile (the first since I had come in, I think) and, though my attention overtly stayed on Mr. Robinson, I muttered out of the corner of my mouth, "I wish. But I can't escape." And hell if I was going to give her license to leave when I couldn't.

  "No worries." She smirked, and then raised her voice, interrupting the man with such innocent goodwill that he couldn't take offense. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Robinson," she apologized sweetly, green eyes made even huger than usual by make-up and design gazing entreatingly up at him. I could see him softening, forgiving, being manipulated. Oh, she was good. For all his annoyance, this man was not an idiot. "But can I steal Darien? His mother wants him."

  He beamed down at her, his wide face suddenly Santa Claus benevolent. "Of course, Miss. Laycha," he agreed amiably, his tone fonder towards her in twenty seconds than I had heard in all the time he had spoken to me, "we don't dare keep Mrs. McGavern waiting, do we?"

  "Of course not, sir," she replied, her tone deferential and respectful- which told me right away how insincere she was, but he wouldn't know that. She was playing him like a piano, and he wasn't easily manipulated, even if he wasn't a top player. "So, Darien?" her eyes twinkled with a mischievous light as she glanced at me.

  "As she says, duty calls," I quickly jumped on her bandwagon- hey, it was working, and I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth- inclining my head slightly in farewell. He bent at the waist, just enough for it to be noticeable, then gave Emma a much warmer smile as a good-bye. She led me away, her hand firm enough on my arm that I guessed she had a destination in mind.

  "So, does my mother actually want me?" I inquired, allowing Emma to drag me towards one of the doors on the side of the room that led onto balconies. Were we going to climb down the trellis? My father wouldn't like it, but if I said it was Emma's idea… although how she was planning to climb in that dress, I didn't know.

  "Well, she told me to rescue you," Emma answered, lips twisting into an impish smile, obviously quite satisfied with how she carried out her commission, "And I'm sure she would approve of lying for a worthy cause like this."

  I felt my lips curl into an involuntary smile, part amused at Emma and part contemptuous towards to myself. "I should have known." It was obviously irrational to expect my mother to actually request my presence.

  "Yes, you should have." She pushed open a door and led me out onto the balcony, taking a long, audible breath as the first gust of fresh air hit her, her chest visibly rising and falling as I saw her relax.

  "How do you stand it in there?" she asked, taking a step into the middle of the small floor and holding out her arms, as if claiming the space she couldn't have inside. The light from the reception streamed out through the glass doors and illuminated her in the sea of the night, her dress shimmering, the golden light glinting off of her crown of hair like moonlight off a midnight lake.

  "What do you mean?" I leaned against the wall next to the door, letting myself sink into the shadows as I watched Emma with an admiring, incongruously soft smile on my face.

  "It's so stuffy and mindless, and everyone- well basically everyone- is so damn stupid!" she half turned to look at me, just her head and a slight twist of her white shoulders, the rest of her still staring out at the black sky, "It's torturous."

  "Eh, it's not that bad," I admitted not sure why I was standing up for this thing I hated. Maybe it was just my instinct to debate anything Emma said, or maybe it was that, as much as I despised these things, they were still my life. "Our parties are like that, and these are nicer than the ones I usually go to." Her dress was the exact same hue, in this light, as the ivy that climbed around the ornate iron railing, so she almost seemed to blend into the plants like some sort of nature sprite.

  "How could you say that?" she exclaimed, taking another grateful, lingering breath, "Parties should be full of music and drama and life! This is just, well, dull."

  "Only if you don't know what to look for," I countered, rising off the wall and beckoning her over to the door. From the darkness looking into the light, no one would be able to see us. Probably. "And these people aren't stupid, they just want to be underestimated. Like my mother, really. People underestimate her because she's female and my dad's wife, and then she can capitalize on that idiocy while they're not looking." By now, Emma had joined me at the door and we peered in, trying not to look like spying kids; which, I suppose, we were.

  "And as for drama, well, see that woman?" I gestured to a pretty young woman, only a few years older than us. "She's engaged to him," I nodded at another man across the room, "But everyone knows she's cheating on him with that guy." I pointed out the last player in that little drama. Emma raised impressed, shocked eyebrows over excited eyes. "And that man?" Emma followed my gaze to the person I was speaking about. "the rumors say that his handsome young male secretary is actually his lover, though there hasn't been confirmation." Personally, I believed it. I had always thought he was too well dressed to be straight. "But life's happening here, life as real as at our parties- it's just better hidden." I could feel a scornful sneer on my face and added sarcastically, "The Matchmaker could do just as well here as at school."

  For an instant, something almost like fear flickered across her face, but it was dark and gone too quickly for me to really believe I had seen it. I almost decided that I had imagined it- almost.

  "You know, you do yourself too little credit," she observed blandly, her eyes fixed through the glass again, the light sinking into cheeks still flushed from the heat and making them glow. "You could do well here."

  "That was never in question," I agreed. It wasn't arrogance; I just knew my strengths. "But I don't want to be here. I don't want to be my father-" I stopped as soon as I realized what I said. Way more than I had meant to divulge – but I had dived in headfirst, and now there was no graceful way to extricate myself. "and staying here would turn me into him."

  Her eyes widened for a second, then her eyelids dropped to disguise anything she thought, surveying me from beneath lowered lashes. "I don't know about that." Suddenly the intense, almost regretful look turned minxish. "Come on, let's get out of here."

  "I told you, I can't!" I protested as she made to start dragging me again, removing her hand with concealed reluctance, "They don't notice anything else, but my parents would kill me for that."

  "Oh, blame it on me." Emma rolled her eyes dismissively, herding me back through the doors with inescapable persistence. Not that I was resisting very hard. "I'm sick of it here. WE can go back to my house."

  Before I knew what had happened, I was relaxing on a loveseat in the Lexington family room, jacket and tie off and with shirt comfortably un-tucked. Emma walked in, all her fancy cloths and makeup gone, replaced by sweat pants and a huge t-shirt that somehow suited her more than her formal attire, no matter how stunning that had looked.

  She paused at t
he other side of the couch, about to sit down. For a second, she cocked her head to the side, as if trying to remember a single detail she had overlooked. Then, with a light of revelation she plucked a few pins out of her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back in jet black waves.

  "This is much better than that thing," she announced, taking her seat with a luxurious shake of her head, setting her hair swinging again and inexorably drawing my eyes to its hypnotic sheen.

  "Yeah…" I agreed without really knowing what I was saying, as my attention had been caught for good. Apparently, that lack of thought was noticeable, as she shot me a skeptical, questioning look. I swallowed hurriedly, yanking my eyes back to hers, and quickly added, "I mean, I suppose so."

  "Do you actually enjoy that sort of thing?" she asked, curling up on her end of the loveseat in what was apparently her default pose in any sort of cushioned seat. Carl, who had followed her in, jumped up onto her lap, and she stroked him absently as I answered.

  My eyes fixed somewhere over her head while I thought about it. Did I enjoy it? I certainly didn't look forward to it, and I had agreed to leave with alacrity, but while actually in it… "I like being good at it," I said slowly, trying to figure it out as I spoke. Emma didn't speak, just kept those piercing, comforting eyes steadfastly on me; eerily echoed by the cat eyes in her lap. "I belong there, like you said. I fit in. And I do like that. So yeah, I guess so."

  "An overwhelming affirmation," she drawled with a grin, cutting the too charged silence that could have followed my words. In a way, I was thankful – she could have pressed and probably got more out of me- but it also irritated me. I had just shared something profound; that meant something, or at least it did when she revealed something.

  "Of course it is," I retorted proudly, my gaze falling back to her and earth, "I said it."

  "And that means it's a fact," she teased with a wry smile, her eyes glinting over the collar of her oversized sweatshirt, "Because you're never wrong."

  "Never." Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair as she stopped petting to give me a look. "Rarely," I amended with a resigned shrug as she went back to stroking her cat after his protest, "I'm right more than most people."

  "That's not saying anything," she countered, tossing back her hair to get it out of her face, "Have you talked to our grade lately?"

  "Not if I can help it, no." I ran an absentminded hand through my perfectly mussed hair. "Why do you think I talk to you?"

  "You mean it's not because of my stunning beauty, sparkling charm, and overwhelming wit?" she asked airily, sparing a hand from her pet to wave it to emphasize her point.

  Well, yeah, that pretty much summed it up. "Isn't it usually sparkling wit?" I queried thoughtfully, quite aware that I had completely avoided the question. Fortunately Carl, who had hissed in complaint of her otherwise occupied hand, distracted her enough that she didn't notice.

  She shrugged. "Perhaps," she allowed, yawning widely. She glanced at her watch, and then looked back up apologetically. "Look, Darien, I know it's only eleven, but I got about three hours of sleep last night, and if I stay up too late tonight that's how much sleep I'll get tonight. I really should go t-"

  "Say no more," I interrupted, rising. Sure, I was put out at being kicked out when she had invited me over, but she did seem tired. And a tired Emma was no fun. "I'll throw myself out."

  "No, it's not like that!" she demurred, lifting Carl off her lap so she could also rise. He gave her a very offended look and stalked out of the room, tail held high. She ignored him. "I'm just so exhaust-" another yawn cut her off. I smiled down at her, which suddenly made me realize just how close we had ended up. When I faced her, she couldn't have been more than six inches away, even with the height difference…

  "It's fine," I assured her gently in a tone I knew in the back of my mind I had never used with anyone other than Troy. But somehow, that didn't bother me right now. "Get some sleep."

  She looked up at me, bringing our faces even closer together. Completely unconsciously – I think. "Thanks," she muttered, a sheepish expression on her face, giving me one of her quick, upwards glance through long lashes.

  I don't know what she was planning to do, if she was closing the few inches between us on purpose. But I knew very well that whatever she was doing, I was going to kiss her, in the quiet of her house with both of us sober, as I brushed a loose strand of her hair out of her face. And this wouldn't be like last time. This one would sweep her off her feet; it would make even her speechless.

  There was five inches between us. Four. Three. Two. One-

  "Hey, Emma, you're home!" Lex threw the door open with a bang, startling both of us into leaping a yard apart. He looked awkwardly from Emma's flushed face, to me, who was looking anywhere but at her or him. "Am I… interrupting something?" he asked slowly, suspiciously.

  "What? No!" Emma stammered, looking back at him, the blush fading from her cheeks as she regained her equilibrium, "Darien was just leaving." If I didn't know any better, I would have believed her; she had recollected herself that quickly. I, however, did not have that sort of skill.

  "Really?" Lex eyed me warily – which was quite a feat for him, who never thought ill of anyone. "Em, you said you wanted to go to bed as soon as you got home." He glowered at me, like he was daring me to challenge him and try to keep her here.

  "Right, I did say that," she agreed calmly, the only thing that betrayed her discomfort the hand that fiddled incessantly with the lock of hair that I had brushed away. "Good bye, Darien."

  "Bye," I replied in a vague daze, letting Lex glare me out of the door. I was still confused about what had happened. Had I just almost kissed her – really kissed her, not a drunken instinct? And more to the point, I discovered as I walked home with a smile growing on my face, had Emma just almost kissed me?

  Chapter 32

  * * *

  Emma

  * * *

  "I cannot believe you actually managed to talk me into coming here," I muttered under my breath to Candy, tossing the duffel bag filled with cloths for the next day onto the pure white carpet of her bedroom and eyeing the two other girls suspiciously. They looked like carbon copies of Candy, except one's perfectly coifed hair was a deep chestnut rather than blonde. Surprisingly, all of them wore sweatpants and a t-shirt; same as I did for pajamas, though their shirts were significantly tighter than mine. "I don't do sleepovers."

  Candy grinned innocently at me, collapsing gracefully onto her lacy yellow coverlet. "It's because I'm so cool," she explained without bothering to lower her voice- the other girls were eying me with blatant curiosity. I rolled my eyes and sat down as well, leaning against the side of her bed. I may have been in the right outfit, but I didn't math the color scheme; the dramatic navy of my pants and scarlet of my t-shirt stood out like a sore thumb against the pastels of the room. "And," Candy added after a moment of thought, "because Darien told you that you should come."

  "And why should what Darien say matter to me?" I inquired delicately. Candy simply smiled wider (and more mockingly, like she knew something I didn't), but the girl in lilac, with the shoulder length blonde curls, stared at me with huge eyes.

  "Because Darien McGavern is, like, the hottest thing to ever walk this earth!" she exclaimed in horror, like I had forgotten my own name, "I'd do, like, anything he said!"

  I opened my mouth to retort, but the brunette beat me to it, looking up from the highly concentrated work of painting her nails. Now that I got a good look at her, I noticed that she looked much younger than me and Candy- freshman, maybe? Sophmore? But the expression in her eyes was one I recognized, exasperated but tolerant. Well, I had never actually seen it before, but I had felt it plenty of times. It was the look I gave Rhi when she was acting like an idiot.

  "That's because you're terrified of him, Marie," she informed the other girl, who pouted and crossed her arms across her ample chest but did not deny the claim. The brunette turned cool, interested chocolate eyes on me. "So you
're Emma Laycha," she observed, surveying me without bothering to hide it.

  "Why would you say that?" I countered casually, giving her my customary enigmatic smile as I tossed my hair over my shoulder and began to braid it idly.

  She returned my smile, though it wasn't nearly as mysterious as mine, it was far more open – and triumphant. "I haven't seen you around Candy before, or whenever Marie takes me to a party, so you're a pretty new friend," she informed me with well concealed excitement, "Marie hasn't said anything about you, so you don't hang around with her at all. But you obviously do hang with McGavern, and he doesn't seem to intimidate you, or attract you. Emma Laycha is the only person who fits the bill."

  I raised my eyebrows, impressed despite myself. "Not bad," I allowed, continuing my plait with deft fingers. The girl did her best to keep a straight face, but she beamed proudly through her set lips. "But," I continued. Her face fell. "I'm sure Candy also told you I'd be coming." She shrugged, not at all ashamed. I grinned; I liked this kid.

  Suddenly Candy, who had been watching the exchange in indulgent bewilderment, clapped her hands to her mouth. "O.M.G!" she cried. Three heads turned to her with varying degrees of irritation at her volume and shrillness. "You don't know who you are!"

  "Well, who does really?" I cut in, tapping my chin thoughtfully with a finger, "I mean, we're only teenagers. We're just finding ourselves…" Candy made an annoyed face at me. The younger girl hid a laugh. The other one simply stared, big eyes the color of oak barked warmed by the sun, attractively wide and empty.

  "No, no," Candy went on, ignoring my interruption, "I haven't introduced you guys yet!" The three of us seated on the floor shrugged. Honestly, I hadn't expected her too, and that sentiment seemed echoed in the other girls.