15. Matt
FIFTEEN
Matt
My life changed the day I met Emma. I didn’t know it then, and I most definitely didn’t expect what came after.
She’s the most confident, hardheaded woman I’ve ever met.
It’s for that reason, after a week of trying to win her over and failing every time, I decided it was way more fun to give into the bickering and still support her behind the scenes.
It didn’t take me long to fall head over heels for her. The way her hair looks when it’s braided, how she jumps to defend her friends without any questions asked… She doesn’t know what she does to me by putting me in my place when I take things a little too far. Like she was born to do it.
Countless nights I’ve spent wondering what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of one of her knockout smiles, what it would be like to kiss it away until neither of us remembered what we were fighting about.
Jennifer storms into my trailer, the small metal door slamming against the wall with a deafening thud. I sit up fast, as I’ve been caught mid thought. One I’m supposed to stay away from.
“We have a problem,” she says, typing away on her phone. I know better than to interrupt. She’s an expert. There’s never been a problem she hasn’t solved, so I usually let her vent out until she lands on one.
When she finally looks up, her eyes sweep the space.
“Where’s Emma?” she asks. “I was hoping to catch you both.”
I stop my shoulders from shrugging, because that’d give away I’ve somehow managed to mess up more than I thought was possible.
“She’s working from home today. There’s only so much she can observe on set, and she needed to get some actual writing done,” I lie through my teeth. I can’t handle another person I respect telling me I screwed this up.
“Should’ve told her to bring a laptop with her, Matt. I told you to be inviting,” Jennifer admonishes.
If I told her just how inviting I’ve been… She’d never let me live down crashing Emma’s date. Hell, I don’t think I’ll forgive myself either.
“You know writers and their quirks,” I say, forcing a lighter tone, adding a shrug. “Stars have to align for inspiration to hit and all that.”
Almost like a blessing in disguise, her phone starts ringing before I have time to confess I haven’t heard anything from Emma since she walked out yesterday. That there’s a real chance the article’s not happening anymore, and I’m waiting for everything to fall apart.
“About my problem,” she says, pointing at the screen. “Give me a minute.”
I nod, and as soon as she’s gone, my face drops. I’m miserable.
As I should be.
My thoughts went wild. Once they started, I couldn’t stop them. And for the life of me, I couldn’t handle the idea of her going out with Tom. I tried talking sense into myself, but the more I told myself it was fine, the worse it got.
Clearly a huge mistake.
Emma’s right. I embarrassed everyone. Even Stella, who was doing me a favor, and has been a friend for years. Acted like the biggest jerk in Los Angeles.
I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, so I don’t know if this is it. What I do know is I’ve been thinking about Emma since I first laid eyes on her. She’s a recurring dream. Always too far out of reach.
And if it’s not love, then something’s seriously wrong with me, because I’m losing it.
Who interrupts a date and then can’t even admit the reason is he wishes she were his?
Somewhere between me showing up at her place and her showing up at mine, I realized she’s too good to get involved with someone like me.
Emma doesn’t need the chaos that comes with dating an actor. She deserves better. A man who can take her out in public without cameras being shoved in her face. A man who doesn’t keep himself tucked into the roles he plays.
She’s truth. And she deserves the same. The best option is for me to stay away.
“I thought I had fixed our problem,” Jen says, walking back in, looking even more stressed than before. “Turns out that was a dead end too.”
Did Golden get in contact with her already?
“What mess did I get into now?” I ask, silently praying she doesn’t mention Emma.
“Surprisingly, none.” Relief washes over my entire body. “But the date we hired for your gala in New York tomorrow fell through. The company said they might have a replacement but unfortunately, she’s come down with the flu. In the middle of summer, ironically.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun. Hope she gets better,” I mumble.
The gala—a fundraiser for the Future Arts Foundation, a nonprofit that funds arts programs for underprivileged kids across New York and New Jersey—is something I attend every year.
It’s a cause that’s always meant something to me, and I try contributing however I can.
Even if public events aren’t my favorite way of spending a Saturday night, I’ve never missed one.
Show up, stay for a couple of hours, do my part with the influence I’ve been blessed with.
It’s never been a hassle. Jennifer finds someone pleasant enough to spend an evening with, who poses next to me on the red carpet and whom I never see again afterward.
This year, especially after the assignment with Emma started, my desire to attend has pretty much disappeared. The only woman I want next to me is her. And that’s not happening. Not after my stunt.
“Maybe I can send a hefty check and save myself the trip.” I give it a shot, although there’s never been a time Jennifer’s passed up the chance to parade me around for a good cause. “You could cross it off of your never-ending list.”
“Yeah… I don’t think that’s a smart move. You need this more than ever,” she counters. “It’s exactly the depth What We Carry is looking for. Your career will skyrocket with that role, Matt. But hey, it’s your life. If you don’t want to go, I’ll cancel.”
She’s right, of course. No surprise there.
The ‘action superstar’ label has been stuck to my name for years, and I haven’t been able to shake it. In Hollywood, there’s a good and a bad side to being boxed into a certain genre. If you excel, you’ll have plenty of work. But it’s also the only thing they’ll call you for.
My mom taught me to be grateful for everything we have in life.
Even something as basic as food. It’s never felt right to complain about the roles I get when there are people who would move heaven and earth to be in my position.
High-speed chases and jumping out of buildings are cool, but part of me is tired of playing the guy who just takes the hit.
I want more. Something meaningful.
With introspection. Emotional growth. A role that inspires others with a craft that goes beyond looking tough on screen. The need for that is there, regardless of how thankful I am for my journey.
“I can go by myself. Won’t be a big deal.”
“You could. Or…” Her face breaks into that smart grin she gets when a lightbulb goes off. I never like the outcome. “I could ask Ms. Miller if she’d like to come with you. Extra exclusive. Double the press. I should’ve thought of it sooner.”
My head is shaking before she even finishes.
“No. That’s not going to work. At all. She’s already swamped with the article. We can’t ask her to take almost two whole days off to follow me across the country, Jennifer.”
That, and she doesn’t want to see me. Probably ever.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” she says. Her phone suddenly looks like a weapon. “Who knows, she might be dying to attend an upscale event such as this one. Bucket list material.”
Not for Emma. She doesn’t do bucket lists. And if she did, it’d be skydiving, running with the bulls in Pamplona, or surfing terrifying waves in Portugal. The messier, the better. A gala is definitely on her do-not-do list.
“I don’t want to bother her, and knowing you, it’ll be more of a compromise than a favor. It’s not part of her job. Let’s leave her out of it.”
“Could argue it is, in fact, a requirement for her current assignment,” Jennifer answers.
Damn. There’s no stopping her.
The last thing I want is to annoy her even more. She’s going to assume this is my doing. Another scheme to force my way into her life.
“Plus, she’s pretty,” Jennifer adds. “She’s not Aurora, but—”
“Don’t compare her,” I snap before I can get my brain-to-mouth connection under control. “She’s nothing like anyone you’ve ever set me up with.”
My mind is suddenly flooded with snippets of moments we’ve shared. The green of her eyes filling my previously gray mind state.
“She’s… different. Emma’s unique, special,” I continue, quieter now. “Everything about her. She shows up in overalls and worn-out Vans and still turns heads everywhere we go—and she doesn’t even realize it.”
Jennifer stares at me, one eyebrow raised, nodding and humming in unison.
“But like I said, I don’t think she’ll agree,” I add.
And I’m not ready for another confrontation. She’s one sentence away from breaking me and getting me to spill my guts. That’s no longer the plan.
I have to stay away, I remind myself for the hundredth time today. For her.
“We’ll see about that,” she says. “I expect you on that plane.”
I stand and open the door for her.
“I will be,” I tell her. “I expect to be by myself.”
She hops down the stairs, her crisis averted, mine getting started.
“Can’t make any promises,” she calls over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her you have a massive crush on her. How about that?”
Wonderful. Sounds like just what I need.
“We’re almost ready to go, Mr. Hunt,” Lauren says, the flight attendant who’ll be on board today.
Jennifer hasn’t gotten in contact since she left my trailer earlier. I went home, changed into a black sweatsuit, and packed strictly what I needed.
Naively, I assumed I was traveling alone.
“Welcome, Miss…” Lauren says.
I should’ve known Jennifer would pull something out of her magic hat at the last minute.
My shoes slide off the seat in front on me, and I stand, wishing I’d had a heads-up to wear something that looks less like pajamas.
“Miller. Emma Miller.”
I hear her before I can see her.