Page 19 of If We Were Young

I flicked another glance at the screen. Nope, it was still there. “Matthew’s messaged me on Facebook.”

A spark of a lighter met my words followed by a deep drag. “He’s done what?” she asked, as she exhaled a lungful of air. “He’s not on Facebook.”

I rolled my chair as close to the desk as my stomach would allow. “No, that’s what I thought. But he’s there.” There was a small picture. Fucking years I’d waited to see a picture.

I peered at the small round image.

“You know if you click on it, you’ll see it bigger.” She guessed what I was doing with uncanny accuracy.

I reached for my mouse and clicked. Then I let out a deep sigh that made my bones squishy. Not bald and fat. It wouldn’t have made the slightest difference if he was.

“Why’s he on Facebook?” I asked, my nose pressed against my screen until my eyes stung and I went cross-eyed.

“I don’t know.”

“Why’s he messaging me?”

“I don’t know.”

There was another pause as she dragged on her cigarette. “Well, what does the message say?”

“Well, I don’t bloody know. I haven’t accepted his request.”

“Accept it.”

“No, he’s a dick. He was rude to me the last time I saw him.” Despite it being fifteen years ago, my cheeks still heated with the embarrassment they’d held that night.

“Remind me again what he said,” Ange prompted.

“No.” Jeez, I was licking my screen; I hadn’t lost all faculties. I would never talk about the night I fucked up—not with anyone.

“Is he a dick though? I can’t tell you if he is, or isn’t, if you don’t tell me what happened.”

“He is rude.”

“Mm.” Another puff of smoke. “Well it’s your call, but you’ll never know if you don’t find out what he’s saying.”

“You aren’t helping,” I grouched, rapping my fingers against the desk.

She sniggered. “No, I’m just not saying what you want to hear. Anyway, after what I saw him do at the reunion, I’d give him a wide berth.”

“What? What did he do? You didn’t tell me anything bad happened.”

There was a beep on the line. “Sorry, babes, got to dash.”

“Angela! Don’t you dare leave me hanging like this.”

“What are you going to do?” She shouted as she disconnected.

“Delete it,” I called back just as the line went dead.

I should have deleted it. That would have made sense. But I didn’t. Instead, I left it there; a blue flashing riddle on my screen. The riddle being, what has Matthew-I-haven’t-spoken-to-you-in-fifteen-years, messaged me about?

* * *

“I’ve been checking the emails to see if there’s any news.” Natalie motioned at my Big Boss chair she was making herself comfortable in. Lady Boss, Fred called me. It made me sound like a cross-dresser.

“Is there? Where is Fred? We need to get some advertising on Facebook, but I want his latest designs.”