Emma #2
“You’re asking me out,” I repeat slowly, “on an actual date.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You’re making it weird,” I shoot back.
“Can you just say yes?” he says. There’s something a little boyish in his tone now, borderline shy. A little hopeful. “Please?”
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Yes, Matthew,” I answer. “I’ll bring my torture tools.”
His eyes drop to my lips and back up in a split second.
“You’d be surprised,” he says quietly, “with how much you torture me already without the need for any tools.”
Oh.
“That’s…” I swallow, but my throat’s suddenly so dry I don’t think I can speak. “Good to know.”
“Yeah. So how about we start with those overalls of yours?”
Dinner tonight was not what I was expecting when Matt asked me out. No time like the present, he said before telling me I had half an hour to shower and change into my overalls which are apparently a must.
He picks me up right on time, having changed into some navy blue pants and a creamed-colored shirt, half buttoned. The sun’s down, yet the air is humid and prickly. Still, I’d bet he dressed like that to get under my skin.
It’s working.
“You make me wear this old thing,” I bicker, pulling at the shoulder straps, “and you show up looking like you’re auditioning for a dating reality show.”
He reaches out, fingers curling into the front pocket and tugging me closer.
“It’s better than any cocktail dress you could ever wear,” he replies, voice low enough to belong in a different kind of conversation. “Signature Emma Miller look. Real. Sexy. Haunts my dreams.”
“Really?” I hook my finger into the opening of his shirt. “That’s because you haven’t met no-clothes-on Emma Miller.”
A small tap to his chest seals it. I walk past him, sliding into the car, watching as he stands there dumbfounded, hand still pressed where I touched him.
The thrill of the tease blooms in my stomach. We’re dangerous, Matt and I. All or nothing. If this works, I have a feeling it’ll be incredible. If it doesn’t, all I can do is hope the friend group survives the downfall.
The drive lands us in a small plaza with picnic tables in the center and three food trucks lined up along the back: tacos, subs, and Greek bowls. Christmas lights hang between poles, casting a warm golden glow. The light breeze carries the aroma of grilled meat and cilantro.
“Anyone else would be surprised,” I say as we step out of the car, “but with your luck, I’m getting used to this.”
“My luck?”
“You’ve accidentally picked my favorite taco truck of the entire city for our first date.”
“Honey, there’s nothing ever accidental about you and me,” he says with a laugh.
My steps falter. I turn. That smirk, equal parts challenge and certainty, sits right where it fuels me the most.
“Take a seat. I’ll order.”
I do. Not because I’m speechless—though I am. Because distance feels necessary right now. If he keeps talking like that, I’m going to end up doing something reckless like jumping his bones in the backseat of his SUV.
Matt’s public persona used to irritate me. Anger me. Still, even then, I could admit he’s built to be in the cover of Men’s Health.
Now?
Now he’s reminding me exactly how long it’s been since I’ve been with anyone, and just how fast my feelings toward him are… evolving.
He comes back balancing a tray stacked full of tacos. My stomach grumbles. For a beat, self-consciousness creeps in. The women he’s used to probably know the names of every piece of cutlery at a Michelin-star restaurant.
I can name twenty different kind of hot sauces, and which peppers are used without thinking. Fork etiquette? Not so much. My hands work fine.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” he admits. “I got a couple of both.”
“Not picky. I like everything,” I tell him, staring at the food without making a move to dig in.
“Even me?”
I roll my eyes, biting my bottom lip to keep from breaking into a smile.
“Fishing much?” I tease.
“I’ll take what I can get,” he shoots back. Then he frowns. “Why aren’t you eating.”
“I will. I’m not super hungry,” I mumble. “Get us started.”
“Mills.”
“Matthew.”
“Eat,” he says stern.
I grab a taco and take a small bite. My mouth waters, craving more. Instead, I give him a thumbs up and put it down.
“Ahhh, I see what’s happening.”
“No, you don’t,” I say, covering my mouth.
“Why do you think I l—I’m attracted to you?”
I shrug.
“You’re smart, and not just in the beat-me-at-trivia-nights way.
Life smart. Honest, even when it’s hard to be.
Adventurous. Full of energy.” He’s listing everything that makes me think I’m too much.
“Caring. Humble. And fucking hilarious. The number of times I’ve had to forcefully stop myself from laughing out loud because I didn’t want to let you win this bickering game we play. ”
My eyes sting.
“Most importantly, you’re never afraid of being you. And coming from someone who’s literally someone else every day, take my word for it. That’s something you should never change.”
He’s right. I like who I am. It’s also the reason I’ve been single this long. I don’t want to become a homebody when I love trying new things. And I’ve yet to find someone willing to keep up.
“Will you go base jumping with me?”
“I’d go skydiving with you, Mills.” His voice doesn’t waver. “Now, eat. Properly. Let’s see who can go hottest.”
Matt doesn’t give me time to process everything he’s just said, grabbing a taco and dipping full force in the medium hot sauce before stuffing it down.
This has to have been the best date I’ve ever been on. Simple, natural, feeding straight into my food obsession. We finished the entire tray. Matt’s eyes started to water with the first bite of ‘burning hot sauce,’ all while I enjoyed my share of the ‘scorching’ serving.
By the time we were done, he was rushing us to an ice cream parlor that was about to close. The door was locked. The workers were cleaning up inside. I was halfway back down the street when I heard Matt knocking.
They recognized him instantly. He got us in, bought a tub of refreshing lemon and another of chocolate brownie cookie dough. I was about to tell him off. Then he started taking pictures with everyone, making videos for their families, and dropped a fifty in the tip jar.
He helped me onto the hood of his car, taking his place beside me. I ate while he pointed out different constellations overhead.
It’s almost midnight. I’m standing in front of my apartment, keys dangling from my fingers, still buzzing from the evening.
“That was better than any outing we could’ve planned,” I say, blushing. I might have won the challenge, but he’s swept me off my feet. That’s for sure.
“You were right. I should’ve asked sooner,” he says with a nod. “Which leads me to…”
I raise an eyebrow. My keys go into my pocket and I brace myself. Maybe he’s realized we’re putting Julia and Harrison in jeopardy if we pursue this. Maybe—
“Can I kiss you?”
My breath catches.
“You’re asking?”
“No matter how many times I’ve thought about this, I want you to feel safe.”
“Only if you show me exactly what you meant the other night.”
Matt huffs out a laugh.
“Deal.”
His lips crash against mine. Firm, certain, like he’s been holding back for who knows how long and finally gave himself permission. One hand comes up to cradle my jaw, keeping me right where he wants me.
And God, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
The kiss deepens, slow at first, then with a quiet urgency that makes my blood pressure drop. My hands find his shirt, his neck, fingers tangling into his hair as I pull him as close as I can.
For once, I don’t fight for control. I don’t even think about it. I let go.
Matt seems fine with that, biting my bottom lip until give him access. My legs go weak, but he’s holding me up, moving us backwards until we’re pressed against my door.
Warmth spreads through me, quick and dizzying. I groan against his mouth. He stills. He knows that’s the line we won’t come back from tonight.
So he moves down, his lips trailing along my jaw.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper, when he presses one last kiss below my ear. “Mmm… Keep going.”
“Careful, honey,” he whispers. “I’m trying to behave.”
I let out a laugh, still a little dazed.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.
“Terrible job so far,” I breathe.
Matt’s grin lingers, softer now.
“Goodnight, Mills.”
And just like that, with one last kiss on the cheek, he steps away, leaving me standing there hotter than a honeymoon hotel room, completely wrecked in the most inconvenient way possible.