Page 23 of Pucking Matt
The first sip of coffee is like a jolt of electricity to my system. I close my eyes for a moment, savoring it, before diving into my work with single-minded focus.
Three hours later, I emerge from my law-induced trance, blinking in surprise at how much I've accomplished. I've plowed through briefs, drafted motions, and answered a mountain of emails. My to-do list, which had seemed insurmountable this morning, is now a satisfying collection of check marks.
Pride swells in my chest, momentarily drowning out the lingering headache. This is why I push myself so hard. This feeling of accomplishment, of knowing I'm one step closer tomy goals, is worth every sacrifice. Take that, hangover. Amber Hughes doesn't let a little thing like alcohol-induced poor judgment slow her down.
As I start packing up my things, my phone buzzes with a text from Jen. I hesitate before opening it, a mix of guilt and curiosity warring in my gut.
Jen: OMG last night was so fun! But I can't tell if Harvey's into me or you.
I stare at the screen, conflicting emotions swirling through me. On one hand, Jen's my friend and I want her to be happy. On the other... Harvey's become an unexpected pawn in whatever twisted game Matt and I are playing. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not ready to give up that advantage.
Me: Not sure either
I hit send before I can overthink it, then immediately regret my vagueness. I should be a better friend. I should tell Jen to go for it with Harvey, that I'm not interested. But the thought of losing my connection to Matt's world, of potentially giving him the upper hand, I can't do it.
The thought of Matt sends a fresh wave of determination through me. He wants war? Fine. But he's going to learn that I fight dirty. I may not have his athletic prowess or his seemingly unlimited free time, but I've got brains and a work ethic that could put most people to shame. He has no idea what he's up against.
I spend the next few days on high alert, half-expecting Matt to jump out from behind every corner with some new prank or insult. But life goes on as normal – or as normal as it can be when you're juggling a job as a paralegal and a part-time job at a sandwich joint.
It's a particularly busy day at the firm. I'm buried in case files, trying to make sense of a particularly convolutedcontract dispute, when Mr. Robinson's voice cuts through my concentration.
“Amber, phone call for you.”
I blink, momentarily disoriented. No one ever calls me here. Anyone who knows me personally knows better than to call me at work. Confused but curious, I pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
The dread I feel shows in my gut. It’s twirling, and I’m afraid someone has died.
Silence. Just breathing on the other end. I'm about to hang up, assuming it's a wrong number, when I catch sight of Mr. Robinson. He's standing in the doorway of his office, his face like thunder.
“Hi, Amber,” Matt says and then hangs up on me.
“My office,” Mr. Robinson demands.
My stomach drops as I follow him, my mind racing. What did I do? Did I mess up a filing? Forget to cc someone important on an email? As I sink into the chair across from his desk, I'm already mentally updating my resume.
He closes the door behind us. The silence stretches for a moment, heavy with disapproval.
“Who was that on the phone?”
Realization dawns on me like a bucket of ice water. The phone call. Matt. That absolute bastard.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“So, it wasn’t a family emergency?”
I shake my head. “They hung up on me.”
His jaw clenches. “Amber, I know you're young. Very young. You might be in social situations where this is funny, but this is completely unacceptable.”
“It won't happen again,” I say, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Robinson. It won't happen again.”
He nods, his expression softening slightly. “See that it doesn't. You're doing good work here, Amber. Don't let distractions get in the way of that. Don’t let your distractions get in the way of my work.”
“Yes, Mr. Robinson. I’m sorry.”
As I hurry back to my desk, humiliation turns to anger. Matt's crossed a line. This isn't just about annoying me at the Grind Stone anymore. He's messing with my career, my future. And I won’t let him get away with it.
