14. Emma
FOURTEEN
Emma
Furious. That’s how I feel after a good night's sleep.
I’m waiting for someone to tell me it was a fever dream, a product of my imagination. The lack of messages from Tom proves otherwise.
Matt better have a good explanation if he expects me to continue shadowing him around. In fact, I’m going to stop by his place before I’m stuck on set all day with his unbearable attitude.
Coffee can wait. I get ready in fifteen minutes, fueled purely by anger.
My only issue is I can’t seem to decipher if it’s from him ruining my date or from him showing up with someone else.
Stella, no less. A reminder that regardless of what Olivia said, people like Matt have different standards—higher ones—and I’m nowhere near them.
I stop in front of his gate and hit the buzzer. A sleepy Matt answers over the intercom.
“Open up,” I growl. A second later, the metal bars whir to life. I park sideways in front of his garage, effectively blocking his escape.
He doesn’t come out, so I ring the doorbell. My foot taps restlessly, already in fight mode.
With his schedule, I’d assumed he’d been up for at least a couple of hours. Expect the Matt that welcomes me looks like he hasn’t slept at all. His hair is tousled, his eyes droopy, and the only thing he’s wearing is a pair of light gray sweatpants sitting dangerously low on his waist.
“Why aren’t you up?” I bark. He’s not ready for what’s coming.
“Long night,” he mutters.
“I bet.” I push past him, half-expecting to find a naked Stella making breakfast. The coast seems clear. I lean against the kitchen counter and cross my arms over my chest.
Matt’s moving infuriatingly slow. He shuts the door and saunters over to me.
“What the hell was that?”
He frowns. “What?”
“Are you kidding me? How about you showing up at Saona and taking over my date?”
“It wasn’t planned,” he argues. “Plus, if I recall correctly, I asked if we should join you. I didn’t just sit down.”
I roll my eyes. “Because you knew neither Tom nor I were going to say no with Stella standing right there,” I hiss. “Newsflash: other people have manners. Something you clearly lack.”
He stretches his arms over his head, and I’m momentarily distracted by all the exposed skin. Annoying, and completely irrelevant. I need to focus.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he groans, bending forward. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t have a great night either.”
“No. It doesn’t.” My voice rises. I try to rein it in, but I’m too far gone. “You don’t get to barge into my life like that!”
“I know. I already apologized!”
He’s getting frustrated with me.
“A half-assed apology is not enough, Matt,” I shoot back. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? For your date as well, given that you barely said two words to her.”
The silence that follows says everything.
And for a second, he almost looks… guilty. Or worse—regretful. It’s enough to make me take a deep breath before going at it again.
“I get it. I taunted you when I was on the phone with Tom,” I admit. “But at no point did I think it would lead to you crashing my date. What were you even trying to accomplish?”
“Nothing… I don’t know,” he mutters.
“Ah, I see. You were simply trying to ruin it for me,” I say, my voice cracking with shame. His face falls, and he takes a step toward me.
I circle the counter to keep the space between us.
“I didn’t plan it, okay?” Matt’s pacing like he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts. “I couldn’t stay away!”
As soon as the words leave this mouth, I freeze on the spot. He’s messing with me. He has to be. It doesn’t make any sense.
“What?” I ask, frustration rising again. “Why?”
“I was jealous!” he blurts out. “Seeing you pull away from me… it made me jealous.”
“I gave you a chance to ask me out, Matt! And you said no.”
This is too much. I hate being involved in the drama. Even more being the drama.
“Technically, I didn’t say no,” he argues, a faint, almost defeated frown on his face. “I offered to take you on another outing.”
I scoff. Right. Nothing like fake, work-related dating to really get to know someone. I bet it’d be a problem if I used all the personal things he’s trusted me with for the article.
“Totally the same thing…”
“Emma, I—”
“No, I get it,” I cut in sharply. “You don’t want anything that’s not article-related, but sure—let’s ruin it for everyone else in case your feelings ever change.”
“No,” he says quickly. “That’s not at all what’s going on…”
I hate mysteries. The world would be a better place if people said what they meant. Fewer headaches. Fewer moments like this.
“I don’t understand.”
Matt lets out a dry, humorless laugh and tugs at his hair. “Yeah. I can see that.”
My expression hardens even more.
“So then maybe explain it,” I snap, stepping closer despite myself. “Instead of running around faking it and messing things up for the rest of us. What do you expect me to do? Read your mind like I’m some fucking psychic?”
“I didn’t mess anything up,” he fires back, slipping into defensive mode. I know where this is headed before he even says anything. We’ve been here before. “If your date was going so well, I don’t think me tagging along would’ve mattered all that much.”
“I can’t believe you just said that. Oh my god…” I mutter, turning away from him for a second. My heart’s racing so fast I can feel it everywhere. And I hate part of me knows he’s not entirely wrong.
When I look back at him, I can tell he already regrets it.
“You don’t get to turn this around on me, Matt.”
“I’m not—”
“You are, though. You always do something like this. You deflect, you joke, you act like everything’s chill all the time. And then, when people start moving on, you pull something like last night.”
Matt’s jaw tightens, like I’m physically forcing his hand.
“Maybe if you didn’t jump to conclusions—”
“What conclusions?” I ask. I literally never know what he’s thinking, even less what he wants. “You said no. You showed up. Matt, you stayed. Made it weird for everyone, including your own date.”
“Yeah, well maybe I had a reason for it,” he snaps.
“Tell me then. What’s the reason?”
He hesitates, long enough to make me think he’s going to say something real, meaningful, but then he shakes his head.
“Nothing.”
“No, don’t do that,” I say, closing the distance between us, my pointer finger aimed at his chest. “You don’t get to drop something like that and then back out.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he mutters.
“It matters to me,” I fire back. “It shouldn’t—and I wish it didn’t—but congratulations. You got to me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither was last night.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. Too loud for how quiet the room is. I signed up for an article. Not… whatever this is.
Matt looks away first, pacing the living room. “Look, I said I didn’t plan it, and I meant it. I won’t get in the way of you and Tom.”
I study him, the tension in his back. But he won’t meet my eyes anymore.
“Right,” I say finally. Quieter now. Colder. “Good. Because I’m not doing this with you.”
He turns and nods, like that settles it. “Yeah. Okay.”
Another pause.
A small, disbelieving laugh escapes me. I expect him to say more, but when he doesn’t, I shake my head and head for the door. Deep in my mind I’m thinking: Say something. Stop me. Do literally anything. Nothing happens.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Matt says, a little too flat. “I’ve heard that before.”
I linger for a second, the door handle cold against my palm. Matt doesn’t make a move.
So, without another look back, I leave.