Page 50 of The Golden Scoop

“I’m sorry, but I’m busy,” I repeat, staying strong.

“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says dryly.

He packs up all his trash neatly onto his tray and stands.

He’s hurt. This is new territory for me. We’ve bickered with each other until the earth’s end and not once this has happened. Oh, how I wish Julia was here to help me figure this one out.

“Assuming you’re not busy, of course.”

M. Hunt Feature Notes:

When he focuses, it’s absolute. He’s not scattered, he’s not trying to be charming or flirt his way through. Each step is fully intentional.

On set, you can experience this every day. Controlled chaos that spins around him, wrapped in perfection. It’s almost magnetic. Every line charged with intent, every glance calibrated. None of it feels fake.

TWELVE

Matt

I should’ve kissed her.

At the very least I should’ve told her what my stupid secret is—that I’ve been chasing her smile ever since we met. That she looks stunning in her favorite overalls, and I’m pretty sure she’d ruin me without them. That I love tagging along on her adventures because I’ve never seen anything prettier than her face lighting up when she’s excited.

But I’m a coward. Too scared to get rejected by the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about. Apparently enough to let Tom walk right in.

The last scene on schedule drags on. A five-minute break gives me enough time to review my lines. I know them by heart, but my mind is too busy sabotaging me with images of the happy couple doing everything I wanted to do with her.

“Where’s Emma?” Ben asks when I head back into the trailer to change and take my makeup off.

“She’s busy,” I mutter, heading into the bathroom. “With some other guy.”

I feel trapped. Out of time. And I needed that time with her to convince her to give me a chance. A real one. With strings attached, risky. With me actually in it.

“Ouch. Do I sense some jealousy here?”

I hand him my costume and drop onto the chair.

“Ben… of course I’m jealous. I almost had it,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. He slaps it away and starts wiping my face. “I don’t know what I’ve done from yesterday to today, but suddenly she’s pulling away.”

“Maybe she got scared,” he says with a shrug.

“Scared about what?”

“I don’t know, tío. Emma came into this with her hatred on full swing. She thought it’d be easy. In, out, done. Shocker, you’re actually lovely,” Ben suggests.

“Wouldn’t that make her happy?”

“Happy, confused, betrayed that you lied to her for⁠—”

“One year, ten months and thirteen days,” I finish. “But I haven’t been anything but truthful.”

“Yeah, now,” he scoffs. “We’ve worked together on at least five projects, but when I first met you, I was prepared to deal with a smug, egotistical playboy. You let her believe that until, what, a week ago?”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly,” he says, finally stepping back and turning my chair to face him. “Add in how openly you’ve been flirting on these work outings, and she’s probably wondering what’s real, what’s for the article, and what the hell she’s supposed to do with her own feelings.”

Ben and I have gotten close over the years. I trust him. He’s always had my back. And most of the time—fine, all the time—he’s right.