Secret Diaries (Heartlake Cliche #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

March 14, 2009

The more you hate, the more you love. Whoever was the first to say that must have been really drunk.

     “She would be fine, won’t she?” Matt wondered to himself as he got back to his college friends.

     “Matt!” came a girl’s shrill voice. “Over here, lover boy!”

     She patted the space beside her and motioned for him to come and hurry. He flashed her a lopsided grin—one that seemed to be favored by most of his female companions—and began his way there.

     As soon as he was seated, Rico, the birthday celebrant, began ribbing him with questions.

     “Who was that chick? She doesn’t look like your type. Been trying to be the good Samaritan now?”

     “Of course not,” Matt denied with a mischievous grin. “She’s Rachelle’s friend. Thought I should watch out for her—”

     “—or Rachelle’s gonna cut your head off,” Rico finished with a laugh.

     “Exactly,” Matt agreed as he joined in the laughter.

     “You know man, if I haven’t seen you in an actual fight, I’d have labeled you a pussy. God, Rachelle has you wrapped around her fingers like one of her Barbie dolls.”

     Matt gave him a snarky grin and tapped Rico on the shoulders. Hard.

     “I assume you don’t want a demo?” Matt said through his teeth.

     A glint of fear crossed Rico’s eyes as he removed Matt’s hand.

     “’Course not. I’m just joking, you know,” he said with a nervous laugh.

     Matt nodded. “I see.”

     He may not be one of the rich kids in Kinston but everyone knows how short Matt Harlow’s temper was and everyone would always try their best to avoid making him angry. People respect him not because he was a famous person but more because behind his party-boy personality was the intelligence of a genius. Majoring in physics with a full scholarship from Kinston was enough proof. People always got amazed at how he could be in a band while maintaining his good grades every time they hear about Matt’s educational background.

     He sighed.

     Sometimes he wished he was a bit more normal. Or perhaps only as intelligent as Rachelle. His above average IQ made it hard for him to enjoy being friends with some people. He was generally a kindhearted person but his impatience often kicked in whenever he was surrounded by so much bullshit. Thus, despite his presence in a lot of parties, he was never seen in constant company of anyone except the members of Quarter-To-Five.

     Matt was so immersed in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that his friends had started a drinking game. By the time their noise got through his head, the group had already finished half a bottle of tequila. It wasn’t, however, what got him dumbfounded for three whole seconds. It was the person drinking from the group’s shared shot glass.

     The group cheered loudly as soon as she put the glass down with a thump.

     “Way to go, Grace!” one guy from Matt’s class whose name he couldn’t remember told Grace as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

     “I must admit, I never really drink pure tequila, and it tastes, I don’t know, weird. Hot, actually,” she replied with a grin.

     “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”