Page 42 of The Golden Scoop

“I wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction, especially when you’ve decided to go back to being annoying.”

He rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head.

“If I could tell you, I would,” Matt says. “Eventually you’ll find out. Not right now.”

“Is it confidential?” I squint at him.

“Yes.”

This is exactly why I don’t get invested. It fuels curiosity and that only ever gets me burned.

“Cheer up,” he says. “We’re almost there.”

“I’ll get over it,” I mumble. “You tempted me knowing this was going to happen.”

“I didn’t tempt you. You asked,” he corrects. “And let me point out the only reason I told you was because I know you’d prefer that to me lying.”

I hate that he’s right.

He bumps his shoulder against mine and even though he’s not rough, it’s enough to send me off balance. Instinctively, I grab onto his arm. He holds me, dipped down, floating midair.

For a second, neither of us moves. Tension between us rises way too fast, way too easily. I let go of him as if it’s going to fix whatever is shifting between us.

“You’re really bad at pretending you don’t like me.”

“Emma,” he whispers. “I never said I didn’t.”

M. Hunt Feature Notes:

Working theory:

The playboy act is actually just an act. The parties, the rumors, the headlines, the girls. It sells. It’s what fits the whole action-star persona his career is based around. The Matt he’s been showing me, the one who reads, who listens, who remembers my coffee order… that’s not nearly as ‘Hollywood.’ That Matt stays hidden because he knows it doesn’t sell tickets.

TEN

Emma

Matt’s right. That, I still hate.

And I’m not sure Martha is going to appreciate my first draft when the only juicy new information I have about him is he likes to read. Hardly scandalous. No wonder his team found other ways to keep him present in the press.

Not only that, but just like it happened with my cousin, I’m certain if Golden were to run the article saying he’s everything except cynical, no one would believe it. They’d assume we’d gotten paid an absurd amount of money to make him look good for the role he’s after. And that wouldn’t do him any good either.

It’s a thin line I have to walk on. My opening line stares back at me at wishing me luck.

…he acts like someone who’s aware he’s being watched at all times. And one word keeps standing out every time I try to pin him down: act. How many fake masks are we being fed to fit the Hollywood standard?

My phone buzzes against the table, cutting straight through my spiral.

My man

I have outing #3 ready. Are you free?

There’s a very immediate reaction to seeing his contact pop up on my phone.

Technically yes, I’m free. I skipped meeting up with Matt this morning so I could go into the office and speak to Martha, also to give myself time to process his honesty, but she wasn’t there today either. Now I’m back home, trying to write and to my standard, failing spectacularly.

It’s also my turn to plan something. What else could he possibly have in store for us, and why does it make me itch with nerves that he decided to skip me entirely?