The Matchmaker

Chapter 19

I'd like to crawl into a dark cave and cry myself to sleep. After having decided on, "dates," Zander and Patrick finally took the hint that they were overextending their stay and left at nearly three in the morning; a disregard for social cues will be boldly stated on both their profiles, I feel sorry for the poor girls stuck with either one of them in the near future.

Having the recent, 'chaos,' of my life leave, I couldn't help but glare openly at my best friend but unfortunately, I missed the chance to wring Celia's neck for coercing me into something ridiculous as she fled before I could get one decent profanity out of my mouth.

And now here I am, hours later with crankiness up my ass and a sour expression on my face as Celia flings shirt after shirt in my face.

I spent all night contacting clients and organising portfolios, I was even lucky enough to make a few matches and mail out emails for the next phases of the Matchmaker contract. But being a night-owl has a price, and that price was sweet unconsciousness because I was up till seven before finally deciding enough was enough.

To my horror however, Celia showed up four hours later and dragged my pathetic, zombified body out of bed and onto the floor, where I now lie. I'm sleep deprived, cranky, lazy, and most of all, hungry. A deadly combination which no shopping partner or retail employee wants to deal with. I was in no mental or physical state to be leaving the confines of my bedroom let alone go to a mall with a rambunctious Zander.

"Why do you not have anything decent!" Harrumphing, she stomps a foot out of frustration and if I had a quarter of the energy she did, I would tell her to get out and begone.

"Because our definitions of decent aren't the same," I drawl out monotonously, not even fazed by her semi-insult.

"Do you want something floral?"

"No."

"Coral?"

Rolling my eyes at that suggestion, I can't hold back the frown that sets on my face. She should know better than that. "No."

"How about -"

"No."

Fuming, she starts wringing her hands, her actions bringing me internal happiness. "Catherine Lewis!"

"Celia, I am not going to the mall! You can't drag my sorry ass there!"

"Why not?"

"Because I was up all night trying to make a living, duh!"

"This is work, technically speaking."

Narrowing my eyes, I glance up at her in disbelief, "no it's not, and I'm not going to some overcrowded, loud, and stinky mall where the people linger."

Sighing, her lips press together before she resumes her futile search among my 'indecent' clothing. "Cat, it's not a prison and besides, this will be good for you."

"No."

I'm taken aback when she whirls around, a mixed array of emotions brimming in her eyes, "for the love of your damn cupcakes, you need to interact with other humans. How much longer do you want to cage yourself in here and hide?"

"Uh, forever?" I declare dismissively, not liking the moisture pooling in my own eyes and I have to look away and blink a few times to remain calm. Frustration was already turning me into an emotional biological hazard, sleep being the only thing I need at this moment.

"Cat, you're twenty-one, you need to start forgetting about what happened to you when you were seventeen and move on with life. Look what it's doing to you, you're letting those bitches win and I hate it. You might be okay with all this, but I hate what they've done to the current you."