Match Me, Matchmaker

Chapter 2: Michael's Test

My apartment is like a shack compared to Michael's house.

Oh, something to add to his man slut success! Looks and money. What a great way to live.

"Okay, so, just don't touch anything." I say while slowly checking the proximity. I have to make sure that there's nothing lying around that he could use against me; like the Psych underwear I see on the couch right now. I dive over to it, defending my precious merch. God, that would be embarrassing.

"What are you doing?" Michael asks as I curl around my underwear so he won't see.

"I, uh, the floor is very comfortable," I respond.

"Hm..." he chuckles to himself, but instead of carrying on, he trails off to look around.

When he doesn't seem to be turning around any time soon, I shove my underwear under my shirt and run to my bedroom.

As I open my red door, my lovely room comes into view. With its open concept layout, it's very cool. I have green and blue walls with wire hangers everywhere with pictures, including some great memories. And then, all the way to the left is a huge window. It has a magnificent view. You can see Central Park, little cafes I love to go to, my college, and a few other little places.

Oh, New York.

I pull the merchandise out from under my shirt, and stuff it into my dresser drawer. The green from the Psych logo stands out against the lacy black bras and underwear. It used to actually be my favorite show, Psych was. Well, more of that it was our favorite show.

That was my best friend Randi's and my favorite television show when we were in middle school. We had all of the lines from every episode memorized. It was pretty damn hilarious that we were such die hard fans. We even had matching cases with their catch phrases on them.

So many decent memories, so much time lost.

I sigh to myself and shut my door. As I walk around the corner, I see Michael still looking around.

When he sees me, he says, "I like your apartment," he continues, "It's... cozy."

Wow. Way to dig deep.

"Is that what Weekday Warriors call cheap and small living spaces?" I stop in my tracks to turn and look at him.

He stutters, "Weekday what?"

"Marly's reading quotes have worn off on me," I say under my breathe. I clear my throat and talk louder so he can hear me, "I think it's in a book. Marly always says it; it's referring to the rich, snobby kids, or blowup dolls. I laugh to myself, "She has so many of these book references that I forget which ones they come from."

He laughs with me, but then nods, suddenly seeming interested in something. "Do you read?"

His question throws me off a bit. "Well, I don't necessarily think there's ever time to read; you can't live in fantasy land forever, you gotta start living at some point. Marly usually has suggestions, but they're honestly useless, so in the end, I'm not much of a reader."

He looks at me with a peculiar look, like he's studying me. His eyes switching back between my eyes, and, what I'm guessing, my lips. But he made one mistake, I'm Jersey Patterson and he's looking at me, and it's weird as hell when you think about it.

"Hello? Did you die?" I wave my hand in the air.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I was just mesmerized by how incredibly beautiful you are."