Page 75 of The Golden Scoop

At this point, I’m reassuring myself.

Matt heads into the bathroom to change out of his tux, and I put on my ‘pajamas’ in record time. Thank God I brought an extra pair of leggings. My short shorts are definitely not appropriate for shared-bed situations.

He comes back in wearing the same sweatpants he had on when I stopped by his house the other morning, this time with a simple white cotton tee. I’ve pulled the covers up to my chin. I’m lying facing the ceiling and pressed as far left as possible.

The bed sinks toward him when he gets in. I’m hyper aware of every moment. We’re not touching. Not even close. Matt’s hanging halfway off the mattress.

“You can’t sleep like that,” I growl. “Get in.”

He turns on his side, facing me, arm under his head to still leave some space between us. Somehow this feels louder than anything. Full of respect and care.

He switches the lights off and the darkness swallows us whole.

The silence stretches, but it’s not awkward. It never is between us.

“Do you ever get tired of people deciding who you are before you even open your mouth?” I break first. I did that with him, and oh boy, was I wrong.

Matt doesn’t respond right away. I’m starting to regret asking.

“Yeah. All the time,” he says, voice low. “It’s part of the job.”

He’s not joking. He’s not deflecting.

“I judged you,” I whisper, like I’m revealing a secret when this is widely known. “But you also didn’t do anything to correct me.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to believe me,” Matt answers. “Truthfully, I was scared to tell you and have you not care.”

His words latch onto my heart and squeeze. I know that too well. You think the truth will set you free, but sometimes all it’s good for is to bite you in the ass for getting involved in stuff that was not your business.

“That’s the worst part.” I turn on my side to face him. Our eyes meet within the dark. “Not that they’re wrong… but sometimes they don’t even care if they are.”

“Like they don’t value you,” he agrees.

“You remember the story I told you about my cousin?” I ask. He nods, but he doesn’t push. He gives me space to make up my mind.

It’s hard to open up. A big part of me, the one still rooted in fear, is telling me it’s a bad idea. But he’s been so honest lately, I feel like he deserves some back.

“That day, her boyfriend asked me for my number to ‘keep in touch.’ When I told him that wasn’t necessary, he insinuated… other things,” I say, still mad at the mere thought of his face. “I was going to keep it to myself, but then he followed me into the pool and kept accidentally brushing up against me when we were playing volleyball.”

Matt’s face hardens. “Emma, were you…” He doesn’t finish the question, closing his eyes for a second. “What’s his name?”

Laughter spills out before I can help it. My eyes widen, hoping it was not too loud.

“No! And I’m not telling names!” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me laugh, your mom’s asleep.”

He gives me a stern look which I absolutely do not take seriously.

“Anyway, I told my mom, who went and told my aunt, who then told my cousin… who said I was crazy. That I always had to be the center of attention.” My face twists in disgust. “Everyone picked sides. About three months later my cousin was pregnant, and three months after that she found out, not only that he’d been cheating, but that he was married.”

My voice tightens slightly but I keep going. Stopping now would mean feeling it.

“We heard through friends. My aunt never came back to apologize, neither did my cousin.” I let out a small, humorless breath. “Aside from my mom, no one even asked me what happened. They decided it was bullshit.”

“Explains why you hated me when we met,” he says, putting two and two together.

“You’re like a walking PR campaign, Matthew. Not a single bone that’s true in⁠—”

“Not with you. Not anymore,” he interrupts, quieter this time.