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With the money Emmy would give me for the dance classes, and if I worked really, really hard for the next year, saved every penny and just ate ramen for a while, I could do it. I could make it happen.
Washed up. That’s what you are.
I never had this problem—insecurity wasn’t my thing. I was confident and independent, and I made things happen. But when it came to this? To my uncertain future and how hard I’d failed at making something of myself? I was my own worst critic.
Footsteps approached my table, and I finished off my mimosa.
“Hi, yeah, can I get another one of—?” I lifted the empty glass.
But it wasn’t my super tan waiter waiting to serve. It was Matt.
I sucked in a breath.
God, why did he have to be so damn attractive? Tan and with a five-o-clock shadow along his strong jawline, and those dark, espresso, “lose yourself” eyes.
“Hi,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Your ankle?” he gestured to it.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s…uh, fine then?” Matt chuckled. “I’m glad to see you got your crutch.”
“Yeah, you didn’t have to get me one of these. The doctor pretty much said I’d be fine in a day or two. And I’ve got my meds too.”
“Meds and a mimosa?” he asked.
“One or two won’t hurt. There’s no direction on the bottle that says I can’t have alcohol. Sheesh, relax, Dad.”
“If you’re going to call me Daddy, I’d prefer it in a different setting,” Matt replied, the corners of his lips twitching. He towered over me.
“That’s gross, Matthew.”
“Sorry. I was trying something. Apparently, my flirting skills aren’t what they used to be.”
“Flirting.” I pursed my lips.
“Unclench, Summer,” Matt said. “I’m just kidding around.”
“I told you not to do that.” I licked my lips, trying to turn away from him and not focus on him or the strange, swimming feelings in my core. He did this to me. Seeing him gave me this inappropriate sense of hope that things could be better. But it wasn’t real.
Matt had his life all worked out. Meanwhile, mine? Well, it was nowhere near being OK.
“What are you working on?” he asked, nodding to my laptop.
“Nothing,” I said.
He raised both eyebrows.
“No seriously, I’m not working. I—uh, I’m just checking out my acting school application. And the fees.”
Matt took a seat next to me and scooched closer.
My heart skipped a beat, and I forced myself to calm my breathing. I had to be on high alert around this man. Any hint of weakness, and I’d be the one to pounce. I’d be the one who regretted it in the end, as well. It was bullshit, how much I wanted him, even though he was nothing but trouble.
Christ, he’d broken my heart. You didn’t want him to stay. You were afraid.
“So,” he said, “you want to apply to this school?”
“Yeah, I believe I mentioned it before.”
“You did.” Matt’s head tilted, his eyes focused. “But you’re hesitating.”
“Yeah, it’s the cost,” I said, and my cheeks colored. “But you don’t need to worry about that. I mean, not that you’re worrying.” I paused. What was wrong with me? “Why are you out here?” I asked, trying desperately to change the conversation around. Shift the focus.
“Getting some fresh air,” he replied. “It’s a beautiful evening.”
“Where have the others gone?”
“Out. They’ll be back later.”
“Oh.”
A brief silence followed, and the waiter returned with another mimosa for me. Matt didn’t want anything—a good sign. Maybe that meant he wouldn’t be sticking around outside. I both wanted him to leave and to stay.
“We should stay away from each other,” I said.
“You know, Summer, you underestimate yourself.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re an amazing dancer and an amazing actress. I haven’t seen you act since high school, sure, but I know who you are. Don’t sell yourself short. You should apply to this school if that’s what you really want to do. Don’t let my asshole comments the other day stop you.”
“They’re not. That’s not it at all. It’s just the price, that’s all.”
He opened his mouth, but I waved a hand.
“I don’t want you to offer me anything, Matt.”
“What about a drink?” he asked.
“I’ve already got one.”
“Then what about a pizza?”
That did sound good, but what was the point? After what we’d spoken about earlier?
Matt must have seen my confusion. “I’d like to talk to you, Summer,” he said. “Bottom line, things have been emotional between us. I figure, neither of us are good at emotion, and if we want this to work, we should talk about it.”
“Want what to work?” I asked.
“Us being here. Me being the best man, you being the maid of honor.”
“Right,” I said. “We could ignore each other.”
“Is that really what you want?” he asked. “We agreed to be friendly.”
No. I want to jump your bones. If I could jump right now.
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go back to my room,” he said. “No funny stuff. We’ll talk, eat pizza, work this out.”
