Chapter 5
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I blurt out, staring at the guy in front of me like he's got Matthew as a devil on his shoulder.
Harvey – at least, I think that's his name – looks confused. “What? Why would this be a sick joke?”
As Harvey fumbles for his wallet, I can feel my blood pressure rising. This has Matthew Pearson written all over it. That arrogant, insufferable jerk actually had the audacity to send his friend to ask me out to a party. Un-fucking-believable.
“So, about that party.” Harvey starts again, but I cut him off.
“Look,” I say, slamming my hand on the counter with more force than necessary. “I don't know what game you and Matthew are playing, but I'm not interested. Tell him to find someone else to torment.”
Harvey's eyes widen. “Whoa, hold on. This has nothing to do with Matt. I just thought–”
“Save it,” I interrupt. “I'm not going to any party where Matt might be. In fact, I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon than spend another second in his presence.”
Harvey nods slowly, looking like he's regretting every life choice that led him to this moment. Good. Maybe he'll relay the message to his asshole friend.
As soon as he's out the door, I whip out my phone and fire off a text to Riley.
Me: You won't believe what just happened.
Riley: ??? Spill the tea, girl.
Me: Matthew freaking Pearson sent his friend to ask me to a party. Can you believe the nerve of that guy?
Riley: Wait, what? He sent who? How do you know Matt sent him?
Me: Why else would Harvey be asking? It's obviously some kind of setup.
Riley: Maybe this guy just wanted to ask you out? You know, of his own free will?
I pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. No, that can't be right. Why would anyone associated with Matthew want to ask me out?
Me: That's ridiculous. Matt hates me, so his little gang of hockey players is probably in that same boat.
Riley: Amber, everything that happened was so long ago. I bet none of his teammates know anything about you.
Amber: So you think Harvey asked me out to ask me out?
Riley: (Laughing emoji)
Riley: You need to get back into the dating scene again, so why not say yes and go have some fun, lawyer.
Amber: (Rolling eyes emoji) I’m not a lawyer yet.
Riley: Just saying, maybe you shouldn't jump to conclusions. You might have just scared off a perfectly nice guy.
I put my phone away. A perfectly nice guy who is best friends with Matt? Yeah, right. I don’t believe in coincidences. The evidence is clear in front of me. Maybe I’m stubborn as hell, but I won’t let Matt get away with this one. He’s going too far.
The rest of my shift passes in a blur of sandwich orders and half-hearted small talk.
By the time I'm changing out of my apron, Mr. Robinson has left me multiple voicemails saying he needs me at the office as soon as possible.
By the time I get to my desk, I've almost managed to push the whole Harvey incident out of my mind.
At the firm, I'm immediately swept up in a whirlwind of activity. Mr. Robinson dumps a stack of files on my desk the moment I walk in. It’s dark out, so panic starts to set in.
“I need these reviewed and summarized by tomorrow morning,” he says, not even bothering with a hello. “And don't forget, we have the Daniels deposition at 3.”
I nod, already feeling overwhelmed. “Got it, Mr. Robinson. Anything else?”
He pauses, looking at me over his glasses. “Yes, actually. I need you to draft a motion for the Hernandez case. Think you can handle it?”
“Absolutely.”
He nods curtly and walks away, leaving me staring at the mountain of work in front of me. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is what I've always wanted. Busy enough to forget all my problems. This is my future.
I dive into the files, losing myself in the legal jargon and case precedents.
This is where I belong, not serving food and drinks to annoying hockey players and their equally annoying friends.
Maybe I should quit my fun job and find something else, maybe a retail store.
I can fold clothes and organize all day.
That sounds relaxing and cozy, and maybe it’s my out.
I don’t need this issue with Matt turning up at this law firm.
Can you imagine what Mr. Robinson would do with me if he found out I was in a domestic abuse case in high school, and I was the one doing the beating?
Matt really needs to back off. I don’t know how many people he’s told about what I’ve done, but I don’t need my past haunting my future.
This is why I need to figure out how to get Matt to leave me alone.
Hours pass in a blur of highlighters and sticky notes. By the time I look up, it's past my bedtime and my stomach is growling loudly. I check my watch and groan.
Mr. Robinson is doing a late night here too.
“Good work today, Amber. That motion draft was surprisingly competent.”
Coming from him, that's practically a glowing review. I beam with pride as I hurry out of the office.
The next evening, I'm back at The Grind Stone, trying to balance the stress of being a paralegal with the monotony of sandwich-making. I'm in the middle of lathering toasted bread with mayonnaise when the bell above the door chimes.
I look up, and my heart stops.
Matt saunters in, looking infuriatingly handsome in his Honey Badgers hoodie. And right behind him? Harvey.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
Matt's eyes lock with mine, and a slow, predatory grin spreads across his face. “Miss me?”
I scowl and then finish what I’m doing.
At this point, I shouldn’t even be surprised that Matt comes into every shift I’m working to harass me. This is my karma for being such a bitch.
Matt laughs, the sound grating on my every last nerve. He says to Harvey, “I knew Nixon had a thing for her.”
I hand the customer their meal and then turn to Matt and Harvey. “What are you doing here?”
“Aw, come on now. Is that any way to treat your favorite customer?”
I plaster on my fakest smile. “Welcome to The Grind Stone. What can I get for you today?”
“I get the same thing every time. The grow-the-fuck-up sandwich, remember?”
“Oh, right. How could I ever forget?”
Harvey, who's been watching this exchange with a mixture of amusement and horror, finally pipes up. “Maybe just some coffee?”
My eyes dart to him, and I almost feel bad about how mortified he is. “Perhaps a tall glass of mind your own business?”
Matt chuckles, knocking on the counter. “What did he ever do to you?”
“I don’t know, ask me to a party this weekend and pretending as if you’re not behind it.”
Matt leans in, so I don’t have a chance to see Harvey’s expression.
“I’ll tell you a little secret, Amby.” My blood boils at that nickname.
“Harvey doesn’t work for me. He’s a genuine guy.
If he had the balls to ask you out to a party, it had nothing to do with me.
I would never let him do something that stupid. ”
I search Matt’s face for any sign of insincerity but he’s clean. My stomach is filled with butterflies at Matt’s genuine expression. I swallow and glance at Harvey, but he’s staring at his phone, staying out of this.
The door chimes in as more customers roll in.
Matt chuckles. “Make that protein shake. Extra protein. A coffee for him. And hold the attitude, if you can manage it. He’s a softie.”
I grit my teeth, punching their order into the register with more force than necessary.
But then, Riley's text messages from earlier flash through my mind.
Maybe I've been too quick to judge. If Matt is telling the truth then I definitely jumped to a conclusion too fast. I turn to Harvey, mustering up a smile that I hope doesn't look as forced as it feels.
“You know what?” I say. “I'll go to the party with you, Harvey.”
The look on Matt's face is almost worth the discomfort I feel. His jaw clenches, and for once, he seems at a loss for words.
Harvey, on the other hand, looks like he's just won the lottery and been hit by a bus simultaneously. “Really?” he says, glancing at Matt. Matt wipes the look off his face and nods at him.
As we exchange numbers, Matt seems to recover his voice. “Well,” he drawls, that infuriating smirk back in place. “Looks like someone's desperate for a date. You sure you want to lower your standards this much, Harv?”
Harvey nudges Matt, his face reddening. “Quiet,” he mutters.
I ignore Matt, focusing on Harvey instead. “Text me the details, okay?”
Harvey nods, looking relieved. I don’t think Matt has told Harvey anything about our past. I hand them their orders, making sure to 'accidentally' splash a bit of Matt's shake on his shirt. Oops.
Matt scowls at me before turning on his heel and marching out. Harvey lingers for a moment, looking uncertain.
He says, lowering his voice, “I'll talk to Matt, okay? Tell him to stop being such a dick.”
I nod, appreciating the gesture even if I doubt it'll do any good. “Thanks, Harvey. That'd be great.”
He blushes again, which I find oddly endearing even though I feel absolutely nothing towards him romantically. “So, uh, I'll see you tomorrow? For the party?”
“Right,” I say, suddenly remembering what I've just agreed to. “I'm bringing Jen.”
On cue, Jen pops her head out from the back room, waving enthusiastically at Harvey. “Hi there!”
Harvey looks between us, clearly thrown off balance. “Oh. Okay. That's…cool. Yeah.” He laughs nervously before backing towards the door. “So, uh, see you both tomorrow then!”
As soon as he's gone, Jen rushes over to me, practically jumping with excitement. “Oh my God, we're going to a college party! This is going to be so much fun!”
“Totally,” I agree. “Have you never been to a college party before?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t go to college, no. This is my dream come true!”
As Jen chatters on about outfit choices and potential party scenarios, my mind won’t stop overthinking. The reality of what I've just done starts to sink in, and a mixture of dread and something else begins to churn in my stomach.
I know exactly why I agreed to go to this party, and it has nothing to do with Harvey or his nervous smile. Oh no, this is all about God's Gift to Hockey and Womankind and his world-class douchebaggery, Matthew.
The way he waltzes into the café, barking orders like I'm some kind of servant rather than a person just trying to do her job. The condescending tone he uses, as if making sandwiches is beneath him and, by extension, beneath anyone with half a brain. It grates on my every last nerve.
But now? Now I have a chance to turn the tables.
To step into his world and show him that I, too, can overstep into unwelcome territory and piss him off too.
The thought of seeing his face while I’m at that party, of proving that I belong in spaces beyond this café counter, sends a thrill of anticipation through me.
I imagine the annoyance in his eyes, the way his smug grin might falter for just a moment. Maybe I'll even manage to make him jealous, stealing his friend for the night. The possibility of knocking Matthew Pearson down a peg or two is intoxicating.
Of course, there's a small voice in the back of my head warning me that this could backfire spectacularly. That I'm playing with fire and might end up getting burned. But right now, the potential for sweet, sweet revenge overshadows any rational concerns.
I tune back into Jen's excited chatter, a slow smile spreading across my face. “You know what, Jen? I think you're right. We are going to have so much fun.”
Because one way or another, I'm going to make sure Matthew Pearson remembers this night. And if I'm lucky, maybe I'll finally wipe that smug look off his face for good.