The Matchmaker Read online

  "You can," I allowed graciously, "But you two," I favored the two older boys with a glare that made Allan at least look abashed, "will deliver my presents to me."

  "The tree's about two yards away from you," Darien observed dryly, glancing between me and the tree with an odd expression. If I hadn't known him as well as I did, I would have said it was nervous, but he was never nervous, that I had ever seen. Allan, however, had already bowed to the inevitable and was fetching me my first gift. I opened it slowly, carefully, savoring the feel of having lots of presents. Still, I set aside the wrapping paper almost completely intact. Economy could never hurt.

  I pulled the shimmering chain out of the velvet box, a smile growing on my face. "It's lovely!" I cried, watching the dangling silver crescent moon pendant sparkle in the morning light. Allan grinned and dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassed pleasure.

  "It's nothing, I just saw it, and it seemed like something you'd like," he muttered. I pulled him into a one-armed hug for thanks.

  "I love it," I assured him, replacing the necklace gently. It was too nice to be worn with ratty old pajamas. I turned to Darien, who was hovering near the tree. "Well?" I prompted, raising my eyebrow expectantly.

  "Close your eyes," he ordered. I stared straight at him in response. Mornings made me contrary, especially when I was woken up way too early. He rolled his eyes and nodded to Allan, who obediently shoved a pillow over my face.

  "Alright, they're closed!" I yelled into the pillow, shutting my eyes. If he really wanted it to be a secret for that much longer, I supposed I could oblige him. "Now could you stop smothering me?"

  "Good." At what I guessed was another signal from Darien the pillow was removed. I kept my eyes closed, despite the temptation to see what the noises I heard were. Darien was moving, picking something up… I waited not so patiently, tapping my foot. "It's not as good as Lex's," he said, again with the almost anxious note in his voice. He sounded quite close. , "But I didn't have much time, and I didn't have any good ideas, so…" He dumped something warm and furry onto my lap.

  My eyes flew open. Slit-pupiled green eyes stared back at me out of a pointed black face.

  "Darien!" I exclaimed, holding up the tiny kitten that had been placed in my lap as if not sure it was real. It submitted to my ministrations docilely, until I decided to check its sex. Then it-he- slashed at me. I dodged adeptly. "Darien!" I repeated, to disbelieving to express my joy. His smile at my shock dimmed slightly at my reaction (and probably my inarticulateness) but he didn't deign to give nay justification.

  "If you don't like him-" I cut him off, clutching my new pet to my chest. He squirmed slightly in my possessive grip, and I relaxed. Slightly.

  "He's amazing, Darien," I informed the boy, stroking the cat gently, "And so are you." I could almost see the tension roll off him. He may have even stood up straighter.

  Other than that, he didn't react to my gratitude anymore than to my perceived disapprobation, but Troy, Allan, Jack, and Mom (who had come in to my amazing present, shocked that we had beaten them up. They had forgotten about the whole 10-year-old needing presents thing) had broad grins on their face.

  "It was Troy's idea," he replied curtly, meandering away from the knowing looks shot at him from everyone else in the room (except for Troy, who only looked confused) and towards the tree to seat himself next to his brother. "Now, can the rest of us finally get to look at our gifts?"

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  I worked my way through my presents leisurely, with no regard for neatness (although I was of course polite enough not to make a mess on the Lexington's floor). By the time I had opened the nice boxed set of Tolkien from Emma (something no true closet fantasy lover should be without, she told me), a coffee shop gift card from the Lexington parents, a video game I had wanted for a while but not gotten around to getting from Troy, and an autographed football from Lex, Troy and Allan were already engaged in a furious game of soccer around the living room with Lex's new ball and the adults had migrated to the kitchen to prepare pancakes (honestly, pancakes? How much more cookie-cutter could you get?). Emma had opened the rest of her presents with ill-concealed excitement, but now she was just sitting and watching the game, idly stroking the cat. I got up from my seat on the floor to sprawl on the other side of the couch.

  "Have you decided on a name yet?" I asked, gesturing to the cat. He rubbed his head against my hand, so I didn't move it away. Even I know better than to disobey cat orders.

  "Troy's idea?" she countered, by which I figured she hadn't. I scratched his head, feeling his purr vibrate me.

  "Sort of. He suggested it, but I had remembered you said you got kind of lonely sometimes and-" I stopped talking before I said too much. Emma smiled as if she knew what I was thinking, but she let it go, thankfully. She probably could have gotten the whole story out of me, from me trying to figure out how to get her company to Troy's suggestion to the long train of people that led to their parent's permission. But she didn't need to know that; I didn't even know why I had put such a monumental effort in.

  "I was thinking maybe Blackjack," she said after a short pause, stroking his sable fur absentmindedly.

  "How would you nickname that?"

  "Shelby?"

  "Ugh."

  "Salem?" I gave her a disbelieving look. She shrugged. "I watched too much Sabrina the Teenaged Witch during my formative years," she confessed. I shook my head disparagingly. I guess if you don't have cable, you don't have many viewing options, but come on. There had to be something better than that.

  "Think about it," I proposed. None of her names were right for the kitten, and it would be near criminal to have a pet with a horribly inappropriate name. We watched Troy and Lex's game in silence for a moment. Lex was up, 3-2, but he had just gotten a penalty for endangering the vase on the mantelpiece, and Troy's chances for making the shot looked good.

  "Are you going to Brock's New Year's party?" I finally broke the silence, though I could guess the answer. Not that it mattered; she was going, but still…

  "I wasn't aware there was one," she responded coolly, sincerity oozing from her voice didn't believe her for a second.

  "How could you not?" I inquired skeptically, 'First of all, you've told me often enough that you're omniscient," she half-smiled at that, unable to deny it, "And I was there when Brock told Lex to-" she held up the hand that wasn't petting the cat to stop me.

  "All is explained," she announced with an exasperated look of comprehension, then, calling to her stepbrother, "Allan!"

  He glanced up, holding a furiously (and futilely) running Troy away from the ball with one huge hand on the boy's forehead. "Yeah?"

  "Do you know anything about a New Year's Party?" she crossed her arms and looked expectantly at him. I was suddenly chilled by her resemblance to my mother.

  "Oh yeah!" He cowardly didn't meet her eyes. Not that they weren't scary or anything, but bravery is standing up to terrifying things. Like Emma. "Brock's having one and wants you to come!"

  "And when did he say this?" she prompted, drumming her fingers on the opposite forearm.

  Lex flushed slightly and looked down. "2 weeks ago," he muttered quickly, hastily returning to his game before she could reprimand him any more severely. Emma turned back to me.

  "You see," she gestured in fond vexation. I hid my grin. My brother and I were not that amusing to watch.

  "So are you?" I persisted. Who cared when Lex told her? It wasn't like she had plans, nor a hard choice to make now that she knew. Go to a party and have fun, or stay at home and not? Hard decision, definitely.

  "No."

  "Yes." She didn't actually have a choice. It was far past time to integrate her into the society in which she had to live. She wouldn't last much longer in high school without knowing the party scene, and me and Brock and Lex's endorsement should be enough to make her feel as comfortable as possible.

  "No." she still obviously tho
ught she had a say in this. More the fool her.

  "Yes."

  She sighed and buried her hands in her kitten's fur. Her long loose hair fell in front of her face in a silky sheet and shadowed her face so I couldn't quite make out her expression.

  "No. I don't do parties, Darien- I can't." She sounded as if that should have told me something. Yeah right. She had probably just never tried them and was scared.

  "Why not?" I challenged, meeting her eyes in what was obviously a dare to actually tell in the truth in daylight for once. For a long moment, 2 pairs of bright emerald eyes gazed unflinchingly up at me. Then one pair dropped, and only cat eyes stared.

  "I just can't," she said quietly, looking down at her lap. I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

  "Why not?" I insisted. All her secrets (at least, I assumed this was another one of her secrets because everything about her was) were starting to really irritate me.

  "You wouldn't understand!" her voice suddenly jumped at least 10 decibels. Lex and troy glanced over, startled and alarmed, but when it became evident that neither of us were in physical danger they lost interest and returned to their game. "I can't go to this party, I won't be able t go to the next party. I can't go to any damn parties!"

  "Because you think you won't have fun?" I queried, trying to comprehend her intense antipathy to parties. Before, she had only seemed indifferent, but now that I delved deeper it really seemed like she hated them. Being Emma, it could just be contrariness, but I could read Emma better than that now. This was real, whatever it was.

  "No," her voice dropped so low that I doubted anyone, especially me, was meant to hear her next words. It had more the feeling of a revelation than an answer. "Because I know I will.

  I leaned in and grabbed both her shoulders, catching her eyes firmly. She didn't look away, but judging by the flicker of something that was almost fear in her shielded eyes, that was mostly bravado. "You are going to that party if I have to drag you there, kicking and screaming," I informed her slowly, purposefully. She wasn't getting out of this one. "You need to get out more, Emma. You need to let loose, have some fun."

  "I do have fun," she protested as she broke out of my grip, her eyes fixed on anything but me. Then she tossed back her hair and her chin rose, an oddly defiant look on her now exposed face. "Fine, I'll go," she declared, a stubborn set to her expression. Her eyes locked onto mine with an almost physical jolt. "But I can't promise I'll have fun."

  If I hadn't been so certain I would win this argument, I would have been shocked at my victory. I had suspected I really would have to drag her there against her will. It wasn't often that Emma succumbed to my charm, and even I had had a moment of doubt after her outburst. Emma raising her voice was not a good sign. But somehow, I refrained from gloating. To my dying day, I never knew how.

  "I can live with that," I conceded with fake reluctance. She gave me am one-sided smile.

  "Good, 'cause you ain't getting anymore." I heard, for the first time, a hint of the class in which she had been raised in her voice, as if her caving had been some sort of trigger to her regression into coarse speech.

  I glanced at the grandfather clock that rested against the wall by the door. The Lexington's should have some time family time alone; it was time for us to get going.

  "Troy," I called. The game paused. "We have to go." Him and Lex walked over, identical disappointed grimaces on their faces.

  "Dar, do we have to?" Troy whined. I ruffled his hair and shook my head in regret as I gathered up my gifts.

  "We can bond," I told my brother. He grinned, knowing that when I said that it meant something stupid, testosterone-driven, and probably painful thing that would be incredibly fun. We had done paintball before… maybe laser tag?

  "Okay!" he chirped, beginning to stuff his gifts into a bag with an abandon only known to those under 12. By the time I had returned from saying my farewells to the parents and giving them our regrets, Troy was raring and ready to go. "Bye Emma, Lex," he exclaimed, grabbing my arm to tow me out the door, "Thanks you!" He gave up on me and was out the door in a flash. I followed more sedately, Emma walking after me, setting the kitten on the ground.

  I stopped in the doorway. Emma nearly ran into me, but managed to stay both upright and not trip over the kitten that twined about our legs.

  "You really made Troy's Christmas, Emma," I told her. I wouldn't, couldn't, let go of my pride enough say thank you, but for this, I could imply it. She had done me a massive favor. She smiled almost shyly, glanced down at the cat, than completely out of the blue and out of character; Emma wrapped her arms around me in a hug.

  I managed not to stutter in my shock, r say something really stupid. I was good with girls, I knew that. I could handle charming them and hooking up, and anything in between. But hugging denoted a degree of intimacy I had never had, never wanted with any girl. Emma hugging me was weird and awkward, but somehow, uncannily comfortable.

  "Darien," she said into my chest. I could almost rest my chin on the top of her head, and for some reason, I had to stop myself from doing it. "Thank you."

  "No, Emma," I replied, returning the hug as smoothly as I could, "Thank you."

  Chapter 22

  * * *

  Emma

  * * *

  "Why are you here?" I snapped as I threw the door open on New Year's Eve to reveal Darien standing on the porch, tapping his foot impatiently. He barely gave me time to not get stepped on before he strode in and began to circle. I would have been mad, but it was freaking cold.

  "To make sure you're coming. Lex couldn't make you, you've got him wrapped around your little finger," he told me, surveying me like I was some sort of mannequin wearing an outfit he wasn't sure if he liked. I glared at him, turning with him as he circled. I had actually dressed with care that night, trying to find a balance between the new and old mes. It had taken me a while, but I had finally found an ensemble that satisfied me. The black pleated skirt that ended an inch or so above my knees belted with a thick scarlet belt, burgundy tank top, sheer black button down that I was wearing open, and red stiletto heals that were fairly short were just shy enough of slutty to be attractive. I had rooted in the box that held my old clothes for the button down and heels, and the result had turned out better than I had expected.

  "I keep my promises," I growled, refusing to show any discomfort beneath his unwavering gaze. Carl, as I had finally named the cat (after my grandfather, I had explained to Darien, though he held out for Legolas until the end) twined around my legs. I bent down and picked him up as an innocent excuse for distracting Darien. "So, do I pass?"

  He either didn't get my sarcasm, or ignored it.

  "You look fine," he admitted, meeting my eyes at last and smiling reluctantly, if sincerely. I raised my head in offended pride. I wished I could toss my hair back, but it was twisted into a bun at the back of my head and held in securely with a hair stick. "But can you even walk in those?" He looked askance at the thin heels.

  I shrugged and hid my grin in Carl's fur. I could do a lot more than walk, I had once ran and won a race in these heels (one of those ideas that seem good when you're drunk), but Darien didn't need to know that.

  "Worst comes to worst, they'd make good weapons," I observed, circumventing the question. Lying to Darien was getting more and more difficult, much harder than it should have been, but omission was always easier. And harder to catch, as he was getting better at reading me.

  "Who're you planning to fight?" he asked with mock nervousness. I gave him my best evil grin. It was very, very good; I had way too much practice.

  "Wouldn't you like to know?" I taunted. Now he really was anxious. Ha, take that. If he was going to put me through this, I needed to give him some torture in return.

  "I said you should have fun, not make a scene," he cautioned me. I decided to forgo pointing out the irony of him telling me that. When did I ever make scenes? But I did roll my eyes. Maybe blatantly lying to him wasn't that hard.

 
"If you insist," I allowed magnanimously, but with a sly glint in my eyes. I think he might have hit me then, or at least tried to, if Mom hadn't come down right then. Like usual, Darien immediately clammed up.

  "Darling, you look lovely," she cooed, examining me similarly to how Darien did, but far less disposed to criticism. "Oh, hello Darien!"

  He nodded awkwardly. He still wasn't used to my mom's effusive maternalness. Or how different I was from her. But mom didn't notice, her attention being fixed elsewhere. That is, on me. Joy of joys.

  "Where'd you get those earrings?" she asked, peering at the silvery crescent moons dangling from my ears revealed by my swept up hair. They glinted, drawing attention to them like little pieces of fire hanging from my head. "I don't remember those." My hand stole to hold Allan's moon necklace.

  "Dan gave them to me," I muttered. Her eyes widened in shock. I looked down, still rubbing the pendent. It wasn't my fault that the earrings looked so good with the necklace. Dan and Allan just both knew my tastes. There was nothing symbolic about the earrings. Nothing at all. The fact that I was wearing them to the first party I had gone to in years meant nothing at all.

  "Honey," she held me at arm's length, studying my face with terribly kind intensity. I hate it when she did that. The kindness made it impossible to get irritated at her. I buried my head in Carl's pelt, not willing to meet her eyes. They would probably be far too knowing for comfort. "Will you be okay?"

  "I'll be fine," I replied curtly, jerking out of her hold. Carl, protesting my sudden movement, leapt out of my arms and Darien's face revealed his shock- I rarely spoke that overtly angrily- but Mom, being mom, just gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and left. She understood that even if this was a mistake, it was a mistake I had to make. Sometimes, I adored my mother.

  Darien opened his mouth, probably to ask a question that nothing would have compelled me to answer, but Allan with for once impeccable timing, pounded down the stairs. Of course, that meant the timing was horrible for Darien, but I didn't care.