“Got it. Warning received loud and clear. I won’t fuck Matt.”
Damon laughs. “How naïve of you to think I don’t already know you’re fucking.”
“Are you and Maddox detectives now?” Matt told me about their conversation in the kitchen, but he wasn’t supposed to tell Damon about it.
“Your fake relationship doesn’t seem so fake … Are you serious about him, or are you repeating the same mistake?”
“It’s just fucking and doesn’t mean anything.” Why does that feel like a lie? “I promise I won’t break your precious golden ticket.”
Damon rolls his eyes. “Come on, man, that’s not why I came over here. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
“We’ll be fine. We promised.”
“Like Aron’s fine?”
I wince. “Low blow.”
“You want my advice?”
“Nope.”
“Too bad. End it.”
A big fuck you is on the tip of my tongue, but Matt finishes up talking with the staff, so Damon backs off.
We head out the front without so much as a goodbye to my friends. They mean well, I get that, and I did screw up, but it gets to me when they play the blame game.
“You oka—shit.” Matt stalls in his tracks.
Paparazzi wait outside for us. Guess someone has a big mouth—or quick fingers on social media.
“And our break from the limelight is over,” I say so only he can hear. “Come on. We got this.”
Matt wades his way through the photographers like a pro, but in the car, his mood turns sullen. He doesn’t say anything the whole way back to my place, but as soon as we’re in the safety of my house, that’s another story.
He grabs my arm. “You okay?”
“I already told you I’m fine,” I say. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? The vultures are back.”
“Did you notice there were less this time?” He says this as if that means something. I don’t want to disappoint him by saying it might mean there was a bigger celebrity close by.
“I’m going to head to bed,” I say. When I start up the stairs, he doesn’t follow. “You coming?”
“Is that an invitation or are you asking out of some sort of obligation?”
My brow furrows. “Huh?”
“You can’t tell me the shit your friends were saying hasn’t gotten to you. You think you’re going to do the same to me that you did to Aron, and they think so too. So, you’re either inviting me up to cover the fact you’re freaking out or you really don’t care and you’re repeating the same mistakes because you obviously never asked Aron what was going on during the entire time you were together.”
“It’s too late at night for psychoanalyzing.” I turn on my heel and march up the steps.
“Goodnight then.”
He’s seriously not following me? Fine. He’s leaving tomorrow anyway.
I continue up the stairs without looking back.
“Really?” Matt yells when I’m almost at the top.
I pause. “What?”
“I literally gave you an opening to talk about what went down tonight, and you’re bailing.”
“We’re fucking, Matt. We don’t talk.”
That’s a lie, and I know it. Matt’s learned more about me in the week we’ve spent together than any of my friends have in years. For some reason, I’ve spoken to him about my issues with my father. Maybe I wouldn’t have had he not overheard them, but the fact is, I’ve talked more with him than I have with any other person.
We get each other. We were brought up completely different but somehow have a lot in common.
“If that’s how you want to play it, then fine, but if you ask me, I reckon your friends are full of shit.”
I freeze on the steps and finally turn back. “You what?” I can’t have heard right. No one takes my side. Ever.
Something a lot like gratitude tries to melt my cold, dead heart, but I don’t let it. He’s probably just saying it so I quit with the pity-party routine. I fucked up. It’s my fault. There’s no way around that.
“I get they’re pissed because you and Aron have made it awkward between them.” Matt slowly starts walking up the stairs to meet me. “But you’re not the only one at fault here. Aron knew what he was getting into, just as I do. He broke the rules. He fell for you when you told him not to. He no doubt couldn’t help that, and it’s easy to say you shouldn’t have started something with him in the first place, but you’re not the asshole your friends are making you out to be.”
“Yeah, I am.” I have to be. I can’t … I don’t like that Matt can see right through me.
“No. You’re not.” He steps into my space. “You don’t let them know their words get to you. They don’t know the guilt you feel.” Warm lips drop to my neck. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”
I moan when Matt’s hands find their way under my shirt. “Damon told me to stop.”