Perfect Match (5 page)

So… I hope you won’t hate me or anything, but…

Anyway… I don’t know what else I could say, just… I’m sorry it turned out this way.

Hope you’ll have a nice summer.

Emma West

I read her e-mail over and over again. Was she seriously saying she can’t see me anymore? Was she breaking up with me as a friend? It’s not like I didn’t expect this, but… Seriously?! I felt so stupid, but she was right. We couldn’t have any relationship because she’ll move to L.A, and I’ll stay here, and she was right, I wasn’t long distance boyfriend material. Actually, I wasn’t
boyfriend
material at all. But I really hoped I could date
her
.

But I couldn’t stop feeling so bad.
C’mon, dude, get a grip. She’s not the only woman in the world.

I knew that. But in that moment, it felt like she was.

And I knew what I had to do.

Chapter 6

Let’s See Los Angeles

~*~
E
mma
W
est
~*~

I tried to think about everything else but Matt in the next weeks after I sent him that e-mail, and luckily I managed that pretty well. I was so busy with the university and moving to a new city, where I’m going to live by myself, or the fact that my family will get used to my absence sooner than I will.

“Can I go and live with Em on holidays?” my younger brother, Rick, asked expectantly.

“Emma will return home on holidays,” my mom replied with her confident voice. “Aren’t you?” she continued with a smile.

“Um… Perhaps… Yes!” I said as I noticed her perplexed face.

“But I wanna go to L.A!”

“You study before going there,” she advised him.

I filled my bread with jam, shaking my head. I knew very well where these type of discussions lead to in my family. My father didn’t even show his eyes from his The New York Times newspaper, which he read every morning.

My friends were all excited and scared about moving to another state, and that made me understand that I was normal. Of course, the rumors about Gabrielle and Curtis haven’t stopped after Prom, every single person thought she deserved it. I wasn’t so sure. She was human, after all, even though she didn’t seem like it.

I was aware that I was going to live with a complete stranger in L.A, in a rented apartment, that I will be so far away from home, and I will be completely disoriented in my first week, that I’ll be always late to classes, I’d get lost (entirely purposeful) in Beverly Hills or Santa Monica, but somehow that thought was actually comforting.

***

My parents drove me to L.A at the beginning of August. Unlike home, in Connecticut, here was sunny and crowded. I put on my sunglasses on when I saw the panel which said “
Welcome to Los Angeles, California
”, and Rick made fun of me until we arrived at the building where I was supposed to live.

No matter how hard I tried, when I got out of the car I couldn’t picture myself living there. L.A was a huge city and suddenly I felt suffocated. I wanted to open my mouth and say something. I felt so jealous to notice that my brother, 16 years old Richard, appeared to be more appropriate to live in the City of Angels than I was.

When I got accepted at UCLA, I haven’t thought that I was used with a small city, and my life style will change so hard in a city which will soon absorb me. I felt the sun burning even harder in Los Angeles, the air was wet, and the wind way too strong, and hot in the same time.

Rick had no issue with the weather, and was flirting with a couple of girls who just got out of my future building. My mom and dad were already in the apartment with my things.

“Hey, Em. Let’s see the apartment, shall we?” Rick asked, with a Hollywood smile on his careless, beautiful face. “They’re Anne and Jane, and they study some I-don’t-know-what-kind-of-Business, sophomores at UCLA,” he presented them proudly.

“Hey, I’m Emma,” I said, shyly.

They told me where they lived, and assured will help me with anything, and made me promise to “hang out” with them tonight. I accepted their offer, and dragged Rick before adding his magic words “
can I have your number?
”

“You suck, Em, and you’re a buzz-killer,” he said with a fake British accent while I pulled him into the building.

Inside was really cool, and I eagerly watched the architecture of the building, the graffiti walls with all kind of names, the different colored doors, and the typical smell of… youth.

My apartment, number 205, was on the second floor, on a highly illuminated hall, with a vintage look.

“Hey, I’m Monica!”

I barely got into the apartment, and Rick jumped two steps behind, and I stood there, looking at the “Monica” girl, who came onto me at the door.

She was about 5'7''’’, with long, curly strawberry hair, in that “super arranged” way that I had to check around for a camera, or a make-up team. I noticed in the apartment were just my family, and the Monica girl, so I proceed to study the stranger. She was slightly tanned, no excessively, but natural. She had a heart shaped face, with a perfect nose, and a perfect skin, wearing discreet makeup. And she had amazing lips, although I have no idea why I thought about this.

She looked like a model, having that silhouette anyone would kill for. She was dressed so elegantly, with a white blouse and short jeans, which made her legs long and sexy, and she was moving like a feline on five inch heels. Long story short, she was perfect.

“I’m Emma,” I said aware of how long I stared at her, along with my brother. “He’s Rick, I mean Richard, my younger brother.”

“Such a handsome young man,” she said casually with a child voice, mature in the same time. “You have such amazing names. Compliments, Mrs. Stephanie.”

“Oh, thank you, Monica, dear. Oh, Emma, you couldn’t find a better roommate than her!” she said with an unusual familiarity, and a satisfied smile. “Monica’s going to teach you everything you need to know, and I am sure you will be good friends!”

“So, Monica…” started Rick making a step forward, bending forward like a gentleman, while Monica offered him her hand, and he slowly took it to his lips, while her beautiful laugh invaded the room. “How you doin’?” he continued, getting even closer.

Monica and I laughed at the same time, and I recognized Joey Tribbiani’s line, since Rick’s been following his steps since he was 6. Monica seemed pleasantly impressed, undoubtedly, with my brother’s charm.

“Richard!” my mom complained, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s time to leave. We bought your things here, so…”

An awkward silence came between us, then Monica excused herself, and let us say goodbye.

“So I really can’t stay?” Rick asked, his eyes glowing like the stars.

I started laughing, and hugged him. Rick and I had a really good relationship, him being often more realistic, and smarter than I was.

Mom gave me other advice while hugging me, about ways to removing different kind of stains, and how to cook healthy, and insisted on trying to convince Monica to come with me home on holidays, and before anyone noticed the tears on her eyes, she left the apartment, saying she’ll wait in the car. Dad didn’t say too much, just gave me a bear hug and told me if I need anything, he’ll do it for me.

Before they left, I hugged my brother again, warning him not to go nuts and to be careful, to study and to miss me, and he, with his typical charm, told me he’ll run away from home in a weekend to come and see me. “And Monica,” he whispered on his way out. I sighed and looked out of the window, waving to my parents while they drove away in the familiar Chevy.

When I decided to turn around and see the apartment I saw Monica in the middle of the room, with her hands crossed over her chest, looking at me with sympathy.

“So…” she started with a friendly smile. “Do you wanna see Los Angeles?”

I wasn’t so sure, knowing that I was completely overwhelmed by the fact that I was now independent and completely alone, but I was on Hollywood’s land and, since this had been my favorite place in the world, I decided that I had to agree.

“Sure!” I answered smiling. Let’s see Los Angeles!

***

I visited everything I could in a single day, I got tan involuntary, I fell in love with the breeze and the Los Angeles sand, the citizens’ liberty, with Sunset Boulevard and everything that surrounded me in L.A.

Monica introduced me to a lot of people in the campus, and everyone seemed so friendly, and she seems to know like, everybody here. She was so popular, but she was
that
beautiful and it would have been impossible not to be a social butterfly. I thought of her like an elegant, smart and friendly Gabrielle. She surely had been the head of cheerleaders and gone out with some Ken, who looked like he was on the cover of magazines like
People
or
OK! Magazine
. Or even worse, a Calvin Klein catalog!

“I hated high school,” she told me while drinking an Iced Frappe at her favorite café on the beach.

“Why?” I asked interested.

“Because it was a private high school, and everyone was so brainless, thinking they ruled the world and so,” she said. “I couldn’t get along with anyone and the teachers were… How can I say it? Um… A pain in the ass.”

We both burst out laughing at the same time, and after that moment, Monica seemed more human to me, and I was happy to find out she really wasn’t spoiled or superficial.

“We still have a few weeks, and I can show you everything,” she said while checking her iPhone. “You have to see the greatest clubs, we have to go to the beach and “accidentally” run into a superstar. I’ve met Shia,” she said, showing me a picture on her phone with her, annoyingly photogenic, in a pub, holding Shia LaBeouf’s arm. “He’s a great guy,” she assured me.

She also said UCLA was a remarkable university, with easy courses and spare time programs, that the teachers were young and really well trained, the students were just like the movies, always willing to have fun, and that I will love it here.

We had dinner at a restaurant called “Destiny”, with a mystic design, which of course, was among Monica’s favorite places, and she was popular there, too. A guy brought Monica a very nice colored cocktail from the house. Only later I found out he was the owner of the restaurant, and noticed that most of the waiters treated her with familiarity. At the end of the night, Monica insisted she’ll pay for the dinner, because she didn’t want me to spend anything on my first day, some weird superstition of hers.

When I got home, I was completely exhausted, but Monica looked fresher than ever, even though she had walked around half of L.A on her incredibly high heels.

I took a bath with cold water to refresh, and the shower cabin had a massage function, and I ended up spending an hour in the bathroom. When I got out in my purple, satin rope, Monica gave me a hot chocolate with two ice cubes, and she got into the shower.

While I sat on the leather couch, I noticed the walls’ color, a light café, and the apartment was decorated in a vintage style. There were brown lamps; round, fluffy, black rugs, which I liked very much, and they matched the couch and the two armchairs, the coffee table was mahogany and I thought Effie from
The
Hunger Games
would really like it.

I dragged my legs to the kitchen, and I observed it was very different from the living room, because everything here was modern, with all kind of technologies, and I had no idea how they worked. I thought it was as modern as the bathroom.

Truly intrigued by everything, I decided to see the bedroom. I placed the cup in the sink, completely forgetting that there will no longer be someone to wash my cup, and went to the bedroom. As I expected, it was a very large room, illuminated by a big chandelier, and in the middle was a four poster bed, probably king size. It was impressive, probably there could sleep about four people without having any trouble. There was also a very big wardrobe, which matched the night stands.

It seemed a very intimate and elegant place, very clean and well decorated, very Monica. I searched for my pajamas in my bag, and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress feeling like heaven.

I called my mom, and I talked to her for about 10 minutes, and you should understand “talking” as “listening”, then I realized how tired I really was.

“Did you get used to it, Em?” Monica asked when she came back from shower, with her strawberry wet hair sliding on her shoulders.

“Um, yes. This place is amazing,” I said completely fascinated.

“Thank you. I know there should be two beds, but last year I hadn’t had a roommate, and now it was too hard to let go of it,” she confessed, all smiles.

“It’s heaven,” I told her, and returned the smile.

Monica ignited the lamp, which looked just like the lamps from the living room, only smaller and we sat in bed, and I knew it was the most relaxing place in the whole world, and we talked a while about something I really can’t remember. And I fell asleep soon afterwards.

Chapter 7

My New Best Friend

~*~
E
mma
W
est
~*~

When I woke up the next morning, I felt rested and relaxed. Obviously, it surprised me to notice I slept only until 8 and a half, because I wasn’t a morning person. Monica wasn’t in the room and I assumed she could totally get up in the morning and still look stunning. Unlike me.

I brushed my teeth, and I was pleasantly surprised when I’ve noticed I had coffee in the kitchen, and it tasted heavenly. I didn’t have Monica’s phone number, which was kind of weird, so I just returned to the bedroom, and after making the bed and arranging a few things, I started unpacking.

After about half an hour I took a break, eating a chocolate bar I found in the fridge, and sat on the couch, with my laptop in my lap. I Skyped with Hilary, who wasn’t so excited about college, because her room was really small and “it practically sucked”, her words not mine, and she had an annoying roommate.
Oh, I was so lucky!
I though while looking around the room.