Page 58 of The Golden Scoop

The silence that follows says everything.

And for a second, he almost looks… guilty. Or worse—regretful. It’s enough to make me take a deep breath before going at it again.

“I get it. I taunted you when I was on the phone with Tom,” I admit. “But at no point did I think it would lead to you crashing my date. What were you even trying to accomplish?”

“Nothing… I don’t know,” he mutters.

“Ah, I see. You were simply trying to ruin it for me,” I say, my voice cracking with shame. His face falls, and he takes a step toward me.

I circle the counter to keep the space between us.

“I didn’t plan it, okay?” Matt’s pacing like he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts. “I couldn’t stay away!”

As soon as the words leave this mouth, I freeze on the spot. He’s messing with me. He has to be. It doesn’t make any sense.

“What?” I ask, frustration rising again. “Why?”

“I was jealous!” he blurts out. “Seeing you pull away from me… it made me jealous.”

“I gave you a chance to ask me out, Matt! And you said no.”

This is too much. I hate being involved in the drama. Even more being the drama.

“Technically, I didn’t say no,” he argues, a faint, almost defeated frown on his face. “I offered to take you on another outing.”

I scoff. Right. Nothing like fake, work-related dating to really get to know someone. I bet it’d be a problem if I used all the personal things he’s trusted me with for the article.

“Totally the same thing…”

“Emma, I⁠—”

“No, I get it,” I cut in sharply. “You don’t want anything that’s not article-related, but sure—let’s ruin it for everyone else in case your feelings ever change.”

“No,” he says quickly. “That’s not at all what’s going on…”

I hate mysteries. The world would be a better place if people said what they meant. Fewer headaches. Fewer moments like this.

“I don’t understand.”

Matt lets out a dry, humorless laugh and tugs at his hair. “Yeah. I can see that.”

My expression hardens even more.

“So then maybe explain it,” I snap, stepping closer despite myself. “Instead of running around faking it and messing things up for the rest of us. What do you expect me to do? Read your mind like I’m some fucking psychic?”

“I didn’t mess anything up,” he fires back, slipping into defensive mode. I know where this is headed before he even says anything. We’ve been here before. “If your date was going so well, I don’t think me tagging along would’ve mattered all that much.”

“I can’t believe you just said that. Oh my god…” I mutter, turning away from him for a second. My heart’s racing so fast I can feel it everywhere. And I hate part of me knows he’s not entirely wrong.

When I look back at him, I can tell he already regrets it.

“You don’t get to turn this around on me, Matt.”

“I’m not⁠—”

“You are, though. You always do something like this. You deflect, you joke, you act like everything’s chill all the time. And then, when people start moving on, you pull something like last night.”

Matt’s jaw tightens, like I’m physically forcing his hand.