5. Emma
FIVE
Emma
Matt’s casually chatting with Frank when I get to set the next morning. The older man gives me a smile from ear to ear as he opens the barrier for me.
“Morning, Frank,” I tell him with my sweetest grin.
My head turns to the actor, a scowl already on my face. He winks before following behind me until I park.
“How is this an appropriate work vehicle?” he teases right off the bat, leaning against the side of my Jeep while I gather my things.
“You’re not welcome in it, so don’t stress.”
“Can you not afford doors?”
“Can you not afford a brain?” I bark back.
He’s holding two coffee cups, one in each hand, which he ends up stacking on top of each other so he can offer me his free hand. Luckily for me, I’m perfectly capable of getting out of my own car without help. The less physical contact, the better.
I hop out, notebook and pen ready to go, and he huffs. As if he’s annoyed I don’t need a man to hold my hand.
He leads the way, and I follow beside him. From the corner of my eye, I see him turn to me. He extends one of the coffees.
“What’s that?” I ask, stepping away. “Are you trying to poison me?”
“I assumed you’d need a caffeine boost sooner than later.”
I take it, still wary. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed with my drink.
“Why?”
“It’s called trying to be nice,” he deadpans. “You should try it sometime.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I say with a fake grin.
I bring the cup up to my lips and take a small sip.
The second I taste the golden-brown liquid, my eyes widen with shock.
It’s perfect.
Our steps stay in sync, but his stare doesn’t leave my face. I can feel it.
And if I meet his eyes, I’m going to have to admit that he was right about not one, but two things: I needed coffee, and he managed to replicate my regular order.
I keep quiet, but of course he can’t help himself.
“You’re welcome, honey.”
I grumble into my cup, refusing to acknowledge him, that pet name, or the way it’s inconveniently clouding my hate for him.
First stop is hair and makeup. Inside the trailer, he’s immediately surrounded by a whole team of artists that force him down into a chair.
“You must be Emma, the journalist,” says an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, radiating strong mom energy. “I’m Luna. And these are Riley and Benjamin.”
Riley is gorgeous. Long brunette hair, big brown eyes. She gives me a friendly wave before deep diving into Matt’s foundation.
Benjamin walks over to me, taking me by surprise when he leans down to kiss both of my cheeks. “You can call me Ben. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hey, hey,” says Matt, trying but failing to turn toward us while Luna holds him still. “Let’s keep our lips to ourselves, Benny.”
“I thought you weren’t the jealous type, Matthew,” I tease.
“He is with you,” Ben says, taking my hand and dragging me to a sofa behind Matt. “He won’t shut up about you. Poor man was so upset after the wedding.”
“Only bad things, I bet. Don’t believe a word he says.”
“Ben,” Matt warns, which only makes him laugh.
“Relax. I don’t swing that way,” Ben answers. “And besides, that’s how we greet people in Spain.”
“You’re Spanish?”
He nods. “Benjamín,” he says, suddenly slipping into a thick accent. “My mom’s from the southeast coast, but she came here to study, met my dad, and the rest is history.”
Explains the dark, unruly hair, tan skin, and the kind of warm personality that makes me want to spill all my secrets.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Matt comments. “If he gets pissed at you, he’ll start speaking really fast in Spanish, and I’m almost certain none of it is complimentary.”
“That happened once,” Riley jumps in, coming to his defense.
“And it was because you showed up with orange hair,” Luna adds, making Matt groan.
“It was Halloween!”
“I had to wash your hair five times to get it out,” Ben says. “Like, I get it. You’re the star, but can’t you be a little considerate? I didn’t even get invited to the party!”
Party. Now we’re talking.
“Care to go for a walk with me?” I ask him. “Without Matt interrupting every time he wants to keep you quiet.”
Ben smirks at me playfully.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He stands, grabbing my hand again. “Let me know when he’s ready for me.”
“Ben, I swear—” Matt starts before Luna interrupts him.
“Don’t worry, star,” she says. “He won’t tell Emma all about how deeply in love you are with her.”
Matt turns sharply toward her and I frown. Do they have me confused with someone else?
“Hate, Luna,” he clarifies, but his voice is weirdly soft. “She can’t even stand the sight of me.”
Finally. Something we can agree on.
“I mean…” I can’t help myself. “Your looks are fine. The problem comes when you open your mouth. But hey, I don’t think all those girls you meet at Halloween parties care much about that, so you’re good.”
“Ha. Funny,” he mumbles as we walk out of the trailer.
Ben clearly thinks it’s funny, judging by the squeal he lets out next to me.
I gather an impressive amount of absolutely zero juicy gossip. Yes, even from Ben. And he talked my ear off. I have three pages full of notes and not a single scandal. No shady behavior. It’s all surprisingly good.
Interviewee: Benjamin (Hair Stylist)
Matt remembers everyone’s birthday, and he always brings cake. I’m not sure why people assumes he’s a playboy. Sure, he’s flirty, but I don’t think I’ve heard him talk about a woman in… well, ever. He’s hardworking…
That I can attest to. I mean, these are long days.
Longer than I ever imagined. The only time he has a ‘break’ is when he gets to sit in that hair and makeup chair, so no wonder they love him there.
He went straight to filming as soon as he was ready and did that for about four hours, munching on protein bars between takes.
It did make me feel a little bad, sitting on the sidelines enjoying a delicious chicken pesto sandwich with extra bacon, extra tomato.
All while he jumped from a first floor, rolled around in dirt, and took what looked like very real punches.
The assistant director mentioned Matt doesn’t like using stunt doubles unless it’s necessary.
As if he hadn’t been subjected to intense physical activity for the entire morning, when the clock strikes two p.m., he’s taken back (for the third time) into hair and makeup. Now to get ready for a short interview on set about the movie.
“Is every day like this?” I ask him while we wait behind the scenes for the tech team.
He looks irritatingly fresh. Relaxed. Not a single hair out of place. And I thought I was good at long days.
“We’ve been slowing down this past week, actually. Big scenes have already been filmed, and we almost never go in order, so we’re basically cruising along to the finish line now.”
“Matt, we’re ready for you,” says a man I recognize from filming earlier, carrying cables looped over his shoulders.
“Don’t move. I’ll take you out after.”
I roll my eyes. As if I’m allowed to leave.
He gets through the questions as if he’d been practicing for days. Not a single stumble or missed syllable. His camera-ready smile never falters. It’s polished. So perfect it’s suspicious. It should be impossible to be this good, but he showcases his ability to do this over and over again.
It doesn’t take long, and the second they take the mics off him, he rushes over to me, grabs my hand, and drags me out of the studio.
“Where are we going?” I say, trying to break free from his hold. He doesn’t budge until we’re in the parking lot, standing in front of a pearl-white Corvette that probably cost more than I’m going to make in my entire life.
“I told you,” Matt says, opening the passenger door for me. “I’m taking you out.”
He’s trapped me between the car and his chest, but as stubborn as I am, I don’t get in.
“I’ve been watching you eat all day, so I know you’ve been fed,” he whispers, his voice deep, “but I’m starving. I’d appreciate it if we could be adults about this and get going before I decide to devour something else.”
I shut my mouth and slide in.
“That has to be some sort of HR violation,” I grumble once we’re on the road.
He turns to me with an eyebrow raised.
“You do realize we don’t actually work together, right?”
“Even so.”
He laughs, finding my grumpiness amusing.
“Look, there are very few ways I can get you to cooperate,” he explains, which, annoyingly, isn’t wrong. “And I’ve found one that flusters you enough to leave you speechless, and by default, gets you moving.”
“Great. Not only do I have to deal with your smugness, but also you being downright inappropriate.”
“Will you forgive me if I tell you I’m going to treat you to the best chocolate muffin you’ve ever had in your life?”
“No.”
“I’ll have an unsweetened iced tea and a chicken avocado wrap,” Matt tells the cashier.
“Would you like anything?” she asks, offering me a fake smile, her whites on full display. She’s batting her eyelashes at him, swinging her perfectly styled auburn hair over her shoulder to give him a strategic view of her chest.
I’m already annoyed I have to spend so much time with him, and if that wasn’t enough, now I have to witness women throwing themselves at him at every turn. I reel my anger in, ready to politely decline, but Matt speaks before I have the chance.
“She’ll have an iced latte with oat milk, two splashes of caramel.”
Our gazes meet, because he was already staring at me, and my shock is met by his mischievous blue eyes, glistening like he’s enjoying a private joke.
Like how he knows my exact coffee order by heart.
“Coming right up, Matt,” she says. “It’ll be $23.50.”
“Could you please add a chocolate muffin to that?” he says before handing over his card.
She nods, taps on her screen until the receipt comes out, then proceeds to scribble her phone number on the back.
“In case you want something extra later,” she says with a wink.
He smirks.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”