Page 52 of The Golden Scoop

I hesitate. Is she being real, or is this another way to get back at me? I can’t put myself out there without talking about what happened yesterday first. And if I do, there’s nothing left. No version of me to fall back on if she says no.

“It’s for work,” I mumble. “Strictly.”

Now it’s her face that falls. She looks away, like the sight of me is making things worse. But she’s a pro at pulling herself back together, and within seconds, she’s back to the Emma I first met.

I’m living an out-of-body experience, watching myself get dragged backward, the distance between us—the one I’ve worked hard so hard to shrink—snapping wide open again.

“Then I’m going to have to decline,” she says, her voice echoing in my head. “I’m going to the movies with Tom.”

I scoff. What does she even see in that guy?

“Seriously? Care to explain that reaction?”

“I think you could do better than Tom,” I say, with a shrug. Jealousy is taking over. I can feel it, and I can’t stop it. All I want is to tell her it should be me instead, but the words won’t come out.

“Yeah? Like whom?” she shoots back with a laugh. “At least he’s got the balls to ask. That’s already more than I can say about you.”

Touché.

She’s right. Of course she is.

I don’t get a say about what she does with her free time. I’m not part of it.

I could’ve been. But I’m still hiding. Except now instead of the bad-boy charade, I’m using the article as a shield. There’s no getting through to her unless I come clean.

My shoulders slump. I look down, ashamed.

“I’m sorry. I really want to⁠—”

“At this point, I don’t care, Matt,” she interrupts. “I’ll see you on set.”

The door shuts in my face, and I realize this was my one chance. To take her out. Just Emma and Matt. And I blew it.

There’s no coming back from this. By the end of the night, she’ll be someone else’s.

THIRTEEN

Emma

It’s clear things are tense when I get to set and, for the first time, Matt’s not waiting for me. I stop by the cafeteria and get myself a cappuccino. Underwhelming. Disappointing. Especially after being spoiled for a week and a half. That’s what I get for slamming the door on his face last night.

But what else did he expect?

My plan with Tom hadn’t been set in motion yet. I’d gone home and replayed every moment shared, every secret revealed. Not wanting to bother Julia, I called my sister.

Olivia freaked. You can tell we’re related because the number of questions she fired at me was impressive. She’s a hopeless romantic, and according to her, there’s no way a man would go to those lengths to woo someone without there being some truth behind it.

And so, I was convinced to give him one real, no-writing-allowed date.

Only to get rejected.

Don’t tell me twice. I took my shot, and that’s that. I’ve gone through enough failed relationships to not take it personally. Am I annoyed I let Matt see my vulnerable side? Sure. But hey, with it ending before it even started, we’ve saved ourselves—and Julia and Harrison—a lot of headaches.

He’s in his trailer on a scene break, in full action-hero costume. The black T-shirt he’s wearing is dirty and torn across his chest, leaving a sliver of abs on display. Not that I’m looking.

“Morning,” I say, taking the armchair in front of him.

“Hey.” He doesn’t look up from his phone. “How was the movie?”