Page 37 of The Golden Scoop

We’re inches away⁠—

“Emma! Hey!”

She jumps back before I can register who the voice belongs to.

“Tom!” she chirps. Anyone else would think she’s excited, but I know her better than to believe the fake rise in her tone. “What a coincidence seeing you here.”

“I know! My brother-in-law finally convinced me to give it a try, only to ditch me after the first wave when my sister called.” He chuckles, oblivious to the fact that he interrupted what was shaping up to be the best moment of my life.

I clear my throat, trying to make myself known, and hoping he takes the hint and politely parts ways.

“Sorry, I’m being rude,” Tom says.

Yes, you are, I think. But he doesn’t leave.

He drops his board, shakes out his brown hair like a dog, and offers Emma a bright smile before turning to me and stretching out his hand.

“I’m Tom,” he says. I lean up and shake his hand.

My grip is a little tighter than normal. He doesn’t comment on it, but by the look he gives me, he understands he’s stepping on my toes here.

“I work with Emma. Fellow editor.”

“Ah,” I deadpan. “Must be nice getting to see her every day.”

Emma’s eyes widen, and he looks at her like they’re telepathically sharing some inside joke. One I’m clearly not in on.

“It was until you stole her.” He laughs.

I’m about to comment back along the lines of ‘yeah, and I don’t plan on returning her anytime soon,’ but he decides he’s done talking to me.

“Listen, Emma, how do you feel about a surf lesson sometime? I’ve seen you out there. You’re amazing,” Tom says, and my anger spikes exponentially. “I’ll take you out to dinner to a taco truck of your choice afterward.”

“That’s such a nice⁠—”

“As long as your movie star boy here doesn’t have an issue with it, of course,” he adds, interrupting her.

To this, Emma turns to me for the first time since Tom walked up. Whatever she sees in my face makes her frown. I fake a grin, but even with my best efforts my usual charming smile refuses to show up for me.

“How about I text you?” she says, sweet as ever.

Something ugly and unfamiliar twists low in my chest. Sharp and sudden. I’ve never felt jealousy like this before. And what’s worse is I don’t get to feel that. Not with her. Emma’s not mine. She barely even likes me. Even less a week ago.

But the idea of her laughing like that with him, letting him take over from where I was seconds ago, and offering him the same encouraging words I got today, all those pieces of her I’m trying to earn… it sucks.

I force my shoulders loose and try to keep my expression easy even though I’m already replaying the way she was looking at me five minutes ago. Two weeks might not be enough to convince her that no one else should take my place.

The drive back is filled with quiet tension. I tried not to let Tom ruin the rest of the day, but after he insisted on taking Emma out so much that she eventually said yes, my mood turned as sour as those stupid candies we used to dare each other to eat.

I can tell it’s affecting her as well by the way she’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt beside me. She’s been sneaking glances at me since we dropped off her friend’s board, but I’ve been acting like a douche, pretending to be focused on the road, like I care more about traffic than her.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, a hint of a shy tease in her voice. “You did spend most of the time underwater.”

“At least I’m putting myself out there,” I snap, harsher than intended.

She doesn’t back away. Of course not. It’s like she thrives when she gets under my skin, which only makes me crazier over her because to this day, she’s the only person who’s able to do that.

“What is it then?” she presses. “Are you that offended that Tom didn’t ask you for a picture? Or drop to his knees to serve you?”