Page 53 of The Golden Scoop

Nothing special. Tom was great. He treated and got us a bucket of popcorn with extra butter. But even in the silence, it was a bit awkward. Matt’s silence is never weird. Just dangerous.

Maybe I’ve been out of the game too long. Either way, I don’t want to call it quits yet. He deserves that I at least try.

“Great. We watched Atticus Bailey’s new release. Piece of art, I have to admit.”

Bailey is Matt’s fiercest rival. The press calls them ‘action superstars’ every time there’s drama over who will land the next role, or whose movie franchise has more explosions.

For sure, I think he’ll have something to say, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“Cool,” he deadpans. Then, his eyes meet mine. “Did you get a goodnight kiss?”

My mouth drops. He’s overstepping and he knows it. He probably only does this with me.

“None of your business.”

Matt smirks and goes back to his phone.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

We’ve summoned him into existence, because right on cue, Tom calls.

“Speaking of the devil…” I say, dialing up the tease. “Who knows? Tonight might be the night. Maybe I’ll invite him in.”

Even as I say it, something twists in my chest.

This has him dropping his phone straight onto his face. I snort a laugh when he groans. His attention is fully on me now.

“Hi Tom!” I answer. “Thank you again for yesterday.”

“It was my pleasure,” Tom says. “Listen, I know it’s unconventional to ask you out again so soon, but I’ve managed to score a table tonight at Saona and I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

“Saona?” I repeat, louder than necessary. Matt stands and pretends to pour himself water to get closer. “It’s basically impossible to get in there.”

“I pulled some strings.”

“I would love to,” I tell him. “I’ll get seafood, you get steak. We can share.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he chirps. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Perfect, I can’t wait.”

And I mean it. It’s about time I start giving my effort to the people that appreciate it. People who don’t make me question what’s real.

Nerves don’t happen to me. I make people nervous. But for some reason, I’m already on my third outfit, and I only have fifteen minutes until pickup. After Matt’s rejection, I want to make a good impression.

I slip into a black dress and pause for a second in front of the mirror. It hugs my figure perfectly. Snatches my waist, skims my hips. Ideal for the fancy restaurant we’re going to. The halter neckline makes my shoulders look sharper. Elegant without trying too hard.

Everything else stays minimal. I don’t want to be the center of attention, so I go with simple gold hoops. Then, the shoes. Here’s where I need some power to make up for my five-foot-two frame. I put on my black strappy heels, and the dress falls exactly how it should, brushing the floor.

Clutch in hand, I touch up my red lipstick before tossing it inside.

At seven sharp, my doorbell rings.

Tom stands on the other side of the door, his brown hair slicked back, wearing black slacks and a crisp white shirt tucked in. Never looked better. Yet the butterflies in my belly are still dead asleep.

“You clean up nice,” I tell him with a smile.

“You’re one to talk,” he says, brown eyes meeting mine. “Wow.”