11. Emma
ELEVEN
Emma
Set feels different today. It’s the same trailers, same cables taped to the ground, same PAs running around like headless chickens.
But Matt’s different. I can already tell by the way he’s fidgeting while I drive in to the parking lot. My suspicious instincts kick in, but they’re not in full swing anymore.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says when I get out, handing me what I assume is another perfect coffee. “You look beautiful today.”
I blink. This is new. And I don’t hate it.
“Are you sure it wasn’t you who got hurt jumping off the boat yesterday? Maybe you’ve got a concussion,” I joke.
“No, I’m serious.”
I scoff and take out my notebook as if the threat of writing stuff down is enough to make him back down and drop the flirty act.
“Seriously concussed,” I argue.
My outfit is nothing special. Navy pants and a light blue shirt tucked in. Very professional. Now I need to behave like it as well.
He rolls his eyes at my inability to accept the compliment, but he doesn’t push.
Matt guides us to the hair and makeup trailer and I take advantage of the fact that he’s going to be glued to the chair for at least thirty minutes to leave him there, sneak away, and put some much-needed distance between us.
It feels necessary. Manageable.
Most of the interviews have been conducted, and I’m certain no one is going to give me any insight I don’t already have. All I have left to do is observe. Subtle behavior cues can make or break a story.
I find a foldable chair tucked into the back of the set where they’re filming today and pull out my laptop.
Writing while in the field is not something I’ve done before. I’m old school, I like taking notes by hand. It gives things authenticity. But thanks to the amount of activities Matt’s taken me on, I’ve been getting home mentally exhausted, and with my feelings jumbled up.
So, hiding in the shadows doesn’t seem like the worst idea.
Except it takes him just a few seconds to find me when the director calls for a small break.
“You’re avoiding me.”
I don’t look up. Those baby blue eyes have been winning me over and I desperately need to restore the status quo. Enemies. Not lovers.
“I’m working.”
“You were doing that yesterday.”
I snap the laptop shut. He needs to believe I still despise him. Maybe that way he’ll stop trying to charm my pants off. Which, to be honest, is alarmingly effective.
“Yeah. And look where that got me,” I bite back. “Headfirst into the ocean fully clothed.”
“You were laughing.”
I was. I loved it. I’ve enjoyed every single thing he’s planned. Yes, hiking included. They’ve been better than any real dates I’ve been on lately. But I can’t admit that out loud, even less to him.
“You scared me,” I try.
“Bullshit,” he calls, confidence steaming off every pore. “You liked it. You had fun.”
“It’s my job,” I answer, knowing he’s not going to like what comes next. “Yours is to pretend you’re someone you’re not. Mine is to make sure my subject stays compliant.”
The words come out sharper than I intend. But I don’t take it back.
Not a complete lie. Despite my articles being anonymous, I’ve done enough journalism to know unhappy people are less inclined to help. The more harmless the better.
“I wasn’t pretending yesterday.”
Matt steps closer, places both hands on the armrests of the chair, and leans toward me.
He smells deliciously masculine. I’m transported back to his bedroom, the epicenter of his signature scent, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in his bed, wrapped in sheets that scream his name.
The creak of the wood under his weight brings me back into focus, straight into his gaze.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” he says.
I’m completely hypnotized by the way his lashes lower, slow and deliberate with every blink, clearly savoring this moment.
“This whole tough cookie act. Trying to get me to fight with you, getting me fired up. It won’t work anymore. At least not in the way you want.”
He licks his lips.
Resist, resist, resist, I beg myself.
No can do, says my brain, traitorously dropping my eyes to his mouth, now curved into a dangerous smirk.
With that, he pushes off, and returns to work, as if he hadn’t managed to make me hot and flustered in a matter of minutes—with words.
Well… fuck.
Not a single flaw in his performance. He’s the guy who’s supporting everyone around him, acting like a dork to make people laugh, and not once has he gotten frustrated when one of his co-stars messes up the take. Not even a flicker.
Totally my type. The realization that I’m in awe of Matt’s personality even more than his physique is mind-boggling.
Except when he’s not around to send my nervous system into overdrive, it becomes clear why I should stay away. I no longer think he’s lying, but I still can’t trust someone like him. He’s lived in that playboy role for too long, who knows how much of it stuck?
Add to that our constant bickering. Probably the best sex of your life, and the worst breakup when it happens. Because it will. It always does.
Matt’s not the first one to tell me I’m too much. I learned my lesson with my cousin. Don’t get attached, not even to family. The only exceptions are my parents, my sister, and Julia.
It’s almost lunchtime, and I was certain I’d made a solid dent in my draft.
Upon re-reading, I notice I’ve let my heart bleed more onto the page than my head.
I backspace and get rid of half of it. All I can think of are his hands over mine on the wheel, the way he’d jumped, how he said my name when we were about to—
It’s getting too personal. My head’s not in the game anymore.
Unless I manage to put some real distance between me and Matt, there’s no way I’m going to be able to remain objective with this article. I’m putting my deal and my heart at risk. And I don’t do that.
We need boundaries. And we need to stick to them. No more outings. No more anything that can lead to what happened on the boat.
Matt’s decided subtlety is overrated. He drops onto the chair in front of me with a salad so green it makes me question my life choices—and my sandwich.
I try to mind my own business, but his knee bumps against mine under the table.
“You’re frowning at your food,” he says. “That can only mean one of two things.”
I scoff. Here we go again with Matt somehow knowing everything about me. When did this happen? Is it normal to know more about your enemies than you do your friends?
“Enlighten me,” I deadpan.
“Well, either I said something that made you mad…”
Very plausible, but not this time. I wish my feelings were rooted in anger.
“Or you’re overthinking.”
That’s broad. I overthink for at least one third of the day.
“Nope. Not this time.”
Matt raises an eyebrow and hums.
“Ah, then it’s the third one.”
Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. He chuckles, then drops his voice an octave.
“You’re thinking about yesterday.”
I’m desperately trying not to think about it.
“Wrong.”
“Then why haven’t you come up with another outing?”
I haven’t because the more time I spend around you and your ridiculously charming smiles the less I hate you. And that’s something that would end badly for me, I think. Two weeks. That’s how long he’d stand me before he decided he’s had enough.
“I don’t have time.”
“Or maybe you’re purposefully trying to not have any.”
My stomach flips. I might as well have a neon sign above my head. I can’t hide anything from him. He’s a mind reader. An Emma reader.
I’m about to tell him I need us to be professional, for the article, but also for Julia and Harrison—we can’t dump more bad vibes into the friend group than we already have—but my phone lights up with an incoming call.
Tom.
Perfect timing. A lifeboat from this conversation.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” I grab my phone and I migrate to the other side of the cafeteria, with Matt’s eyes following my every move.
“Emma!” Tom says the moment I pick up. “I’m so happy to catch you. I’ve been thinking about you since I saw you the other day.”
“Hey, Tom. Everything okay?”
“Great now,” he chirps, clearing his throat. “I was wondering if you’re free tonight. I’d love to take you out.”
Tom’s a sweet guy. He’s never been anything but nice to me. Honestly, before now, I’d never considered it. Even after our surf run-in, I hadn’t really given it much thought. But now, it might be the solution to all my problems. Something to distract me from work and Matt.
He’s familiar, predictable, safe. And although I’m not looking for another casual thing, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun.
“I’d love to,” I tell him. “Full disclosure, though: I’m pretty busy.”
“I know. Not worried about it. I’ll just have to make sure you have a good enough time to make you want more,” he says confidently. “I love a good challenge.”
That makes me laugh. I glance back at Matt’s and watch as his face morphs into a frown.
Little does Tom know the real challenge isn’t work. It’s keeping up with me.
The only person who’s managed that so far? The actor sitting a few feet away.
Every movie night at the Harrison’s, when everyone’s going to bed, it’s been him staying up with me. Every random plan I’ve thrown together, he’s been right there. Matt has followed us to Sunday markets, taco trucks, gallery showings I’ve dragged Julia to…
Too good to be true, though. He made it clear at the wedding. Frustrating, because I never asked him to join us. I didn’t even want him there.
But these are the thoughts I need to leave behind. It shouldn’t matter.
“Listen, I’m on set right now,” I tell Tom. “How about I text you when I’m done here?”
“I’ll be waiting,” he answers. “See you soon.”
I tuck my phone into my pocket, dreading the conversation with Matt.
He’s watching me like a hawk as I take my place across from him. No seconds are wasted before he starts the inquisition.
“So… how’s Tom?” His tone is casual, but the undercurrent of anger is obvious.
“Fine. He’s checking in,” I answer, remaining as neutral as possible. I don’t want this to become a pissing contest. I don’t owe him a play-by-play of my free time either. If he can’t keep things focused, I’m going to have to do the work for both of us.
Matt nods slowly.
“Are you seeing him tonight?” His voice carries a sharpness my dad would be proud of.
I didn’t think he’d have it in him to ask. And I sure as hell can’t comprehend why he cares so much. He’s jealous, that much is clear… but why? Before this assignment, he’d never shown any interest. And he’s had plenty of chances.
“I’m busy.”
“With him.”
It’s not even a question. If I was unsure about my plan before, I’m crystal now.
I force a laugh.
“Why do you suddenly care about my life so much?”
He opens his mouth ready to argue his way through but then promptly closes it back up. His eyes glint, and I can tell there’s something he’s not saying.
“I thought you swore you only had one secret I didn’t know about.”
“I do.”
He answers so fast I believe him.
But that means…
“It’s about me?!”
Matt exhales sharply, frustration spilling through.
“Look, I was wondering if I should plan another outing for us.” He sounds resigned, his voice soft and pleading.
I used to love pushing Matt’s buttons. Top three on my list of enjoyable activities. But seeing him like this, slightly upset, makes me want to give him everything.
“I’m sorry, but I’m busy,” I repeat, staying strong.
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says dryly.
He packs up all his trash neatly onto his tray and stands.
He’s hurt. This is new territory for me. We’ve bickered with each other until the earth’s end and not once this has happened. Oh, how I wish Julia was here to help me figure this one out.
“Assuming you’re not busy, of course.”