Emma #2
“That’s the worst part.” I turn on my side to face him. Our eyes meet within the dark. “Not that they’re wrong… but sometimes they don’t even care if they are.”
“Like they don’t value you,” he agrees.
“You remember the story I told you about my cousin?” I ask. He nods, but he doesn’t push. He gives me space to make up my mind.
It’s hard to open up. A big part of me, the one still rooted in fear, is telling me it’s a bad idea. But he’s been so honest lately, I feel like he deserves some back.
“That day, her boyfriend asked me for my number to ‘keep in touch.’ When I told him that wasn’t necessary, he insinuated…
other things,” I say, still mad at the mere thought of his face.
“I was going to keep it to myself, but then he followed me into the pool and kept accidentally brushing up against me when we were playing volleyball.”
Matt’s face hardens. “Emma, were you…” He doesn’t finish the question, closing his eyes for a second. “What’s his name?”
Laughter spills out before I can help it. My eyes widen, hoping it was not too loud.
“No! And I’m not telling names!” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me laugh, your mom’s asleep.”
He gives me a stern look which I absolutely do not take seriously.
“Anyway, I told my mom, who went and told my aunt, who then told my cousin… who said I was crazy. That I always had to be the center of attention.” My face twists in disgust. “Everyone picked sides. About three months later my cousin was pregnant, and three months after that she found out, not only that he’d been cheating, but that he was married. ”
My voice tightens slightly but I keep going. Stopping now would mean feeling it.
“We heard through friends. My aunt never came back to apologize, neither did my cousin.” I let out a small, humorless breath. “Aside from my mom, no one even asked me what happened. They decided it was bullshit.”
“Explains why you hated me when we met,” he says, putting two and two together.
“You’re like a walking PR campaign, Matthew. Not a single bone that’s true in—”
“Not with you. Not anymore,” he interrupts, quieter this time.
“Yeah, I guess,” I admit. “Unfortunately, I’ve learned lies can cause real harm, but telling the truth doesn’t guarantee people are going to believe you. Or stay.”
Matt shifts slightly, our knees now touching under the covers.
“I’d keep you around.”
“Don’t even get me started.” I scoff. “Men are worse.”
That earns a small reaction from him, his eyebrow raised.
“Worse?”
“More convincing,” I explain. “Better at saying what you want to hear without feeling remorse later on.”
Matt hums. “And you think I’m doing that?”
His words are careful. After these past few weeks, I don’t believe that he’s doing that with me. But I know he could if push came to shove.
“I think you’re probably very good at it,” I tell him honestly, hoping I didn’t offend him.
His tongue flicks out, briefly wetting his lips. A beat goes by in silence, and I brace, ready for confrontation.
“I probably am,” he says.
What?
“But not with you.”
My breath catches slightly, enough for him to notice. Immediately, I’m disarmed. This is probably the first time a man hasn’t jumped into defensiveness around me.
“You don’t make it easy,” he adds, softer. “You question everything. You push back. You don’t let me hide.”
There’s a small pause.
“I don’t think I could lie to you properly even if I tried,” he continues. He’s being so honest, all the charm gone, replaced by something real. “And I don’t want to.”
Something in my chest shifts, and I don’t respond right away. I have to sort through my thoughts.
Matt’s not trying to convince me. He’s not even asking me to trust him. He’s just showing up with honesty. He’s been doing that every single time we’re together. I’ve never had that with a man… it’s new and dangerous.
He exhales softly, like he’s about to say something he didn’t plan to. My eyes shoot up to meet his.
“I think,” he begins, cautiously, “you’re used to people leaving before you get a chance to decide if they should stay.”
Not entirely right, but also not wrong either. Usually when I turn up my ‘Emma-ness’ they’re gone in under two weeks.
“I’m not trying to be one of those people.”
My mind’s racing, having no clue how we’ve gotten to this position, being so open with each other, saying things that are making my heart do somersaults.
For a whole minute, I study him. I look for traces of deception, or a clue that lets me in on the joke. There’s none. This is Matt Hunt. And for some reason, I like him.
“You’re really bad at staying away, you know that?” I murmur, softer than I mean to.
He huffs a quiet laugh.
“Say the word and I’ll take the couch,” Matt whispers, almost a dare.
My eyes drop to his lips. I don’t know if it’s the rush of being listened to without judgment running through my veins, but I shake my head and close the distance between us instead.
It’s fast. More instinct than decision. I don’t think he expected this, because he doesn’t make a single move, his lips soft against mine. Matt exhales like something unknots in him, followed by a low groan.
The sound’s enough to make me pull back, and bring me right back to reality, where I kissed him. My fingers come up to my lips, finding it hard to believe what just happened.
“I’m sorry,” Matt says.
“What?” I ask, confused. “Why? You’re not the one that kissed me.”
His hand comes up to my face, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“No,” he whispers. “When I kiss you, you’ll know it.”
Great.
Now I want to do it again.