Sarah
Oops, I guess I got Matthew in trouble. I think to myself as Matthew begrudgingly follows me inside the bar.
"What did she say?" I ask Matthew.
"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbles.
I raise an eyebrow but decide not to push him—at least, not yet. Instead, I slide back onto my stool and take a sip of my drink, watching as Matthew settles into his seat, his shoulders tense. His phone is still gripped in his hand like he's waiting for it to buzz again.
"You know," I say casually, stirring my cocktail with the little straw, "if you're going to sneak around, you should at least be better at it."
Matthew shoots me a glare. "I'm not sneaking around."
I smirk. "Amanda thinks you are."
His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he's going to snap at me, but instead, he exhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't need you making this worse, Sarah."
