When I come home, I find a letter on our sideboard. My dad wrote me. He tells me about his latest trip and work, asks me about my where-abouts since the phone call, and reminisces about how nice snail mail actually is and how he had this penpal as a kid. I read it curled up in front of the TV while my mum watches the news. I make a mental note to reply to my dad soon and leave the letter on the table, for my mum to read if she wants to. She doesn't.
Instead, she tells me about her day at work and how she's thinking about trying a new recipe this weekend. I'm all in for it.
"So, the club," she asks then, "Is everything alright? Are the other members nice to you?"
"They are," I say, "It feels like we're all close friends."
Well, minus Logan and Vivian maybe.
"I really like the girls, and the guys also," I pause and stare down on my lap, "There's this guy, Matthew, he's – nice."
"Nice?"
"Yeah," I say and quickly change the topic, "We're busy preparing the Christmas prom at the moment."
"The one you skipped last year?"
"Maybe. I watched like a thousand tutorials on table setups today. I think I'm a professional now."
"You could do our table at Christmas," my mum suggests, "We never really do anything special, it'll look great."
I smile and nod. "Sure."
"Also," my mum says then, "I'm thinking about making Christmas gifts for your club friends this year. Because they're so nice to you."
"Um. Okay?"
"Do you think it will be too much?", my mum asks, "Are they – not going to like it?"
I don't know what to say to that. My mum giving my club members Christmas gifts for being nice to me? My Mum giving Logan and Vivian Christmas gifts for being nice to me? I'm probably going to die of embarrassment, but also, it's my mum.
"They'll love it," I say, "Thank you mum."
She smiles and reaches out to pat my hair and we spend the rest of the evening watching reruns of old Christmas movies.
Matthew calls me right before I'm about to go to sleep. I'm all cuddled up in my extra fluffy blanket, bunny slippers Kaia got me for my birthday on, and smile when I answer the phone.
"My mum thinks about giving you all Christmas gifts for being nice to me."
"Sweet." Matthew laughs and I smile at his name on my phone screen like a lovesick idiot. "Something else I should know about?"
"Hmm?" I furrow my brows and roll around, chin resting on my pillow, "What do you mean?"
"Oh I don't know, I met Logan after your meeting. Carlos drove me home, so he waited for me, and Logan too, for some reason," Matthew pauses and laughs quietly, "He was really pissed at me. Told me to stay away from you and stop taking advantage you're so willing for me, if I remember correctly. You should ask Logan yourself, it was a pretty great twenty minutes rant."
I groan and burry my head in my pillow. "I'm going to kill him. I'm not even kidding. I'm going to end this guy."
"It was really funny," Matthew says, "I had no idea what he was talking about. I had my arms crossed and everything, totally badass. You should have seen it. Logan didn't look too intimidated though, I thought he would go on for hours. But then Carlos' mum called and said she's waiting with dinner."
I sigh. "I really only said you couldn't make it. And then he was all pissed, as always."
Matthew laughs. "So I guess you didn't tell people you only date me because you want good prom pictures."
"What? Why would I say that?"
"No idea. I wonder – does he think this the reason Vivian keeps up with him?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," I pause and chew on my lower lip. "So – did he really yell at you?"
"I'm not making this up, you know."
"I know, I just," I swallow, "It really seems to annoy him. I didn't expect it to annoy him that much."
Matthew is quiet for a moment.
"Well. This is what you wanted, right?"
I furrow my brows and try to argue back, but there's an unfamiliar hard edge to Matthew's voice. Also, he's not wrong, and I don't know how to tell him that Logan caring is not all I want now. Since there's another person I want to care about me too.
"It's late," Matthew says then, "You're already in bed, right? Let's talk tomorrow."
This abrupt end of our phone call feels disappointing even for me.
"Um. Okay. Good night."
I'm on the line for a few more seconds, and it's only then that I hear Matthew's quiet reply.
"Sleep well."
He hangs up right afterwards, and I hold my phone tightly to my chest until I fall asleep.