How is the Match-Making Going?

You roll onto your side, propping yourself on one elbow as Clara nestles against you. Through the wall, you can hear the faint bass line of what sounds like a vinyl record playing, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

"Speaking of changes," you say with a grin, nodding toward the wall that separates your bedroom from David's, "what do you think is happening next door? Are they actually hitting it off, or was that just polite dinner conversation?"

Clara's lips curve into a knowing smile as she stretches languidly against the sheets. "Oh, they're definitely hitting it off. Did you see how Zara kept touching her collarbone when he was talking about his financial theories? Classic tell."

"I missed that," you admit, letting your fingers trace idle patterns along her bare shoulder. "But I did notice David refilling her wine before she even asked."

Clara nods, her auburn hair spilling across your pillow. "He's been on his best behavior all night. And Zara never stays for coffee unless she's interested—she's usually out the door the moment dinner ends." She shifts closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Plus, she texted me while you were in the bathroom earlier."

"Oh?" Your interest piques. "What did she say?"

"Just a single question mark followed by a fire emoji," Clara laughs. "That's Zara-speak for 'this man is hot and I want details.'"

As if on cue, you hear the unmistakable sound of David's deep laugh through the wall, followed by what might be music being turned up slightly.

"Ten pounds says they're dancing right now," Clara whispers, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "David mentioned his vinyl collection, but what he's really proud of is that vintage record player. He's shown it to every woman he's dated since I've known him."

"Dancing or..." you trail off suggestively.

"Dancing first," Clara decides after a thoughtful pause. "Zara likes to take her time. Though I wouldn't be surprised if—"

She's cut off by the distinct sound of something—or someone—bumping against the shared wall, followed by muffled giggles.

"Well then," you say, eyebrows raised. "That answers that question."

Clara looks delighted, her green eyes widening. "Zara moves faster than I thought! Good for her."

"Good for both of them," you agree, pulling her closer. "Think we should turn up some music of our own? Give them some privacy?"

"Or," Clara suggests, sliding one smooth leg over yours, her fingers walking playfully up your chest, "we could give them something to compete with?"

Her meaning becomes crystal clear as she shifts to straddle you, her hair falling forward like a curtain around both your faces as she leans down for a kiss that promises the night is far from over.

22:45 | Friday 15 August 2025 | Matt's Bedroom, Putney