Chapter 11

WINNING HIM OVER

It was a sunny afternoon, and we were having a picnic in the backyard—just me, my family, Brice, Zeke, and Luther. We spread out an old red-and-white checkered blanket, set up a long foldable table covered with home-cooked food, and played music from Zeke's speaker like we weren't all emotionally exhausted from the Internet imploding on us.

Brice was grilling chicken with a towel over his shoulder like a reality show chef. Zeke was stretched out on the grass with his sunglasses on, sipping iced tea as if he were being paid to look unbothered. Luther was arguing with my cousin about which K-drama actor had the best glow-up while eating chips straight from the bag.

And me? I was sitting cross-legged, wearing the ugliest pajama shorts known to man, devouring a plate of liempo and garlic rice like nothing else mattered.

"Do you guys think I could survive as a farmer?" I asked between bites.

"No," Brice answered flatly.

"You'd burn under the sun before you even touch a shovel," Zeke added.

"You'd look hot in flannel, though," Luther offered with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Glad to know your support is conditional."

The teasing continued, the food kept coming, and for the first time in days, I felt okay. Genuinely okay.

Until we heard it.

The sound started low—like a rumble in the sky.

Everyone paused.

"What's that?" my mom asked, squinting at the clouds.

Brice raised an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me the sky is about to fall. I haven't shaved."

The rumble got louder.

Zeke sat up. "That's not thunder."

"Nope," Luther said, standing now. "That's—oh my God. Is that a helicopter?!"

We all stood and turned toward the field near our house, where the unmistakable sound of whirring blades echoed through the air. And then—yep—a black helicopter was descending like it was delivering someone from an action movie.

"What the—" I started, mouth half-open, plate still in hand.

The door opened mid-air. Wind gusted around us. Dust flew everywhere.

And there he was.

Matt Cohen Reyes.

In jeans, a plain white shirt that somehow looked expensive, and sunglasses that did emotional damage. He jumped down from the helicopter like it was completely normal to interrupt a rural picnic with a cinematic entrance.

"Oh my god," Zeke whispered. "He really helicoptered his way back into your storyline."

Brice clutched his chest. "I swear if he starts singing right now, I'm going to faint."

I, on the other hand, couldn't move. Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe properly.

He was walking straight toward me—confident, determined, hair whipping in the wind like this was the final scene of a love confession montage.

My heart was beating so loudly I was convinced everyone could hear it.

He finally stopped in front of me, removing his sunglasses with one hand.

"Nate," he said, voice quieter than I expected. "I needed to see you."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I just stood there with rice still on my fork, stunned.

"I tried everything. Calling, messaging—I even emailed your agency. But you wouldn't respond. And I get it. I do. But I needed to say this in person."

The world around us faded. My mom and Brice and Zeke and everyone else seemed to melt into background noise. It was just me and Matt and the rush of everything unsaid between us.

Matt stepped a little closer. "I don't care about the trending topics. Or the hashtags. Or even saving my image. I'm here because I made a mistake. Because I've been thinking about you every second since you left."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to find my voice.

"You didn't have to fly across provinces to say that," I murmured.

He gave a soft smile. "I didn't know what else to do."

I felt my throat tighten. Because damn it, this was too much. Too grand. Too perfect. And I hated that it was exactly the kind of gesture my hopeless heart would fall for.

But I wasn't ready. Not after everything.

So I took a slow step back.

"Matt," I said, voice steady but soft. "You can't just show up here with a dramatic entrance and expect everything to be okay."

His expression faltered. "I don't expect that. I just wanted you to hear me out. And maybe—just maybe—give me a chance to fix it."

Brice cleared his throat behind me like he was trying very hard not to make this moment worse. Zeke was filming, I just knew it. Luther was probably already tweeting about the helicopter.

But none of that mattered right now.

"I need time," I said finally.

Matt nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll wait. As long as it takes."

And with that, he stepped back, letting the distance stretch between us once again.

My family returned to pretending they weren't eavesdropping. Brice shoved a piece of chicken into my hand. Zeke raised a glass of juice in Matt's direction like some passive-aggressive toast.

Just as Matt turned to leave, my mom—ever the warm-hearted ambush queen—called out, "You came all the way here. Come eat first before you go."

Matt looked surprised, then hopeful. "Are you sure?"

"She said eat, not propose," Brice muttered behind me.

But Matt just smiled, eyes never leaving mine. "Then... yes, please. I'd love to."

And just like that, Matt Cohen Reyes, international pop heartthrob and source of 92% of my emotional damage, sat down and grabbed a plate like he'd always belonged there.

"Matt, do you eat spicy?" my mom asked while handing him a bowl of som tam. "Be honest. Not the showbiz answer. The real one."

Matt chuckled, looking genuinely amused. "Spicy like, 'Oh this is flavorful,' or spicy like, 'my ancestors are crying'?"

"Spicy like your soul is leaving your body," my mom deadpanned.

Matt grinned and picked up his spoon. "Then I will risk it. For your cooking? Always."

I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Flirt," but no one heard except Brice, who elbowed me playfully.

As Matt took a bite and winced dramatically but kept eating, my mom patted his back.

"You're brave. I like that. But tell me, Matthew... why are you really here?"

The table quieted a little, even my little cousins stopped giggling as they roasted hotdogs over the small fire.

Matt didn't hesitate.

"I came to see Nate," he said simply. "I wanted to talk. Properly. Without the noise. Without cameras. Without PR teams hovering behind the scenes."

My mom nodded thoughtfully, chewing on a piece of grilled corn. "You like my son?"

Matt glanced at me briefly. I quickly looked away.

"I do," he said. "Very much."

She looked at him over her reading glasses like she was evaluating a house for termites. "Do you love him?"

That question hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Matt didn't answer right away. He set down his plate, wiped his hands with a napkin, and finally said, "Yes. But it's complicated. I didn't expect it. I didn't plan for it. And I know I've made mistakes, especially with Nathan. But I swear, I never meant to hurt your son."

My mom was quiet. She studied him with a sharp eye and then—surprisingly—smiled.

"You know," she said, "I watched the press conference. I replayed it three times. Because I wanted to know if you were acting."

Matt looked nervous now. "And...?"

"You weren't," she said. "And that scared me. Because real feelings come with real consequences."

He exhaled. "You're right. They do."

My mom leaned closer. "So if you're staying here tonight... don't think that means you've been forgiven. My son needs peace, not another heartbreak."

"I understand," Matt nodded. "I'm not here to win anything. I just want a chance to... be near him. Even if he never forgives me."

My mom stared for a few seconds longer. Then, slowly, she stood up, took the empty plates, and called over her shoulder:

"Then help me wash the dishes."

Matt blinked. "Sorry—what?"

She turned with a grin. "You heard me. You want to be part of this family? You earn it."

Without skipping a beat, Matt stood and followed her into the outdoor kitchen area where the faucet was, and I watched as my mom handed him an apron with a ridiculous cartoon elephant on it.

Jake came over, nudging me with a grin. "Well, look at that. Your mom made him her assistant."

"I should warn him she does background checks," I muttered, crossing my arms.

But as I stared at Matt, sleeves rolled up, washing dishes with my mom, listening to her stories, and even laughing like he belonged there... I couldn't help but feel something heavy and warm in my chest.

It was so annoying.

Because I didn't want to forgive him yet.

But he was making it so damn hard not to.

As the stars blinked above and the night settled in like a warm blanket, Matt finally dried his hands and turned to my mom with a small, grateful smile.

"I should probably head back to the city now. It's a long drive, and I don't want to overstay," he said politely, already reaching for his jacket.

But before he could even slide it on, my mom waved a hand at him. "Nonsense. It's dangerous to travel at night. Just stay over."

Matt froze mid-motion, eyes flickering to me—almost like he was silently asking, Will this be okay?

I looked up from where I was stacking the banana leaf plates and met his eyes for a beat.

Then I shrugged, casually nodding. "Sure. Whatever."

That was all it took for Brice to gasp dramatically and for Zeke and Luther to start clapping like we were on a game show. My little cousin even threw a marshmallow in celebration.

Matt laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright," he said. "Guess I'm sleeping under the stars... again."

And just like that, he was staying.

The crickets hummed outside as the house dimmed to a sleepy hush. Most of my relatives had gone to bed, lights flicking off one by one. I walked into the living room with a spare blanket in hand and found Matt already curled up on the sofa, long legs dangling off the edge, one arm over his eyes.

"here" I said quietly, tossing him the blanket.

Matt chuckled as he spread the blanket over himself. "Good to know I'm deeply cared for."

I lingered for a second before turning to leave, but he called out again, his voice softer this time. "Hey... thanks for not making me stay."

I glanced over my shoulder. "It's my mom who wants you to stay, not me" I mumbled not facing him.

He laughed under his breath. "But you let her, it's the thought that counts."

And as I walked away to my room, I couldn't help but smile to myself.

Just a little.

__________

The morning light slipped quietly through the thin curtains, casting warm gold across the small living room where Matt had fallen asleep. He stirred slowly, blinking at the ceiling, disoriented for a moment until the soft clatter of breakfast prep from the kitchen reminded him—he wasn't home.

He sat up on the couch, careful not to shift the blanket too loudly, and listened. The air smelled faintly of steamed jasmine rice and something garlicky frying. Unlike the chaos from the night before, the house was oddly peaceful now—just distant murmurs, the occasional tap of utensils, and a quiet hum of an old Thai pop song playing from a speaker somewhere.

Matt stood up and padded toward the kitchen. His hair was a mess, shirt wrinkled, but none of that mattered when he spotted Nate standing by the counter in an oversized shirt, holding a cup of tea with both hands, his posture relaxed and sleepy.

"Morning," Matt greeted softly, a small smile tugging on his lips.

Nate glanced at him, one brow raising ever so slightly. "You snore," he said plainly, sipping his tea without breaking eye contact.

Matt chuckled. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Don't sunshine me. You slept like a log and hogged the blanket. You're lucky Mom likes you."

Matt smiled, leaning on the counter beside him. "She asked me to stay."

"She also lets my uncle feed the cat fish sauce, so I wouldn't take that as a sign of good judgment."

"Noted," Matt said, watching him carefully. "But I appreciated the hospitality... and the peace. It's nice here."

Nate looked at him again, lips curled into the beginning of a smirk. "Is this part of your redemption arc? 'Guy breaks heart of fake boyfriend, retreats to the countryside to prove he's not trash'?"

Matt winced. "Ouch."

"If the shoe fits."

Matt didn't defend himself. He just stared down into the tea Nate handed him without asking, a soft thank you escaping under his breath.

They stood in silence for a moment. Matt let it stretch—easy, unhurried. But Nate didn't like that. Still sipping tea, he side-eyed him.

"You're really not going to leave, huh?"

"I'm not forcing anything," Matt said calmly. "Just... staying until you tell me to."

Nate scoffed under his breath. "That's brave. Or stupid."

Matt smiled. "You've called me worse."

"That's because you keep earning it."

Despite the sarcasm, Nate didn't walk away. He stood right there, quietly finishing his tea next to Matt in the morning stillness, and said nothing else.

It wasn't forgiveness.

But it wasn't nothing, either.

________

It was a quiet afternoon when Dad called me over to the porch, his legs resting on a stool, the surgical scar on his side still healing under his loose shirt.

"Nate," he said, his voice low but warm, "I've been meaning to ask... Do you think you can head down to the plantation tomorrow? The team needs some help planting the new seedlings. I usually check in myself, but you know... this old body's on timeout for a while."

I glanced at him, then toward the horizon where the sun was starting to dip into orange.

"Sure, I can go," I said, nodding. "I'll bring Brice, Zeke, and Luther. They've been lounging around like retired rockstars. Might as well make them useful."

Dad laughed, clearly satisfied. "Good. The boys will appreciate the help. Just let them know to bring boots. It's not a TikTok shoot down there."

"I'll make sure they suffer," I teased, already pulling out my phone to message them.

From behind, a familiar voice cut in.

"I'll come too."

I turned slowly to see Matt standing a few feet away, arms folded but gaze eager. He'd clearly been eavesdropping from the hallway like the nosey drama protagonist he was.

"You?" I raised an eyebrow. "You know this isn't a music video set, right? There's dirt. Sun. Insects. Possible emotional breakdowns from physical labor."

Matt smirked. "I can handle it."

I stared at him for a beat. "You sure? There's no air conditioning. No fancy trailer. You'll sweat like a real person."

"I'll survive," he said confidently, stepping closer. "Besides, maybe I want to see you in work gloves."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my childhood.

"Fine," I sighed. "But if you pass out in the heat, I'm not carrying you."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a grin. "Unless you're offering."

Brice shouted from inside the house, "Tell your loverboy to bring his own shovel!"

Matt just laughed—and to my horror, actually looked excited.

Absolutely! Here's a fun, detailed continuation written from Nate's point of view, mixing hilarious group chaos with a romantic near-kiss moment that's so close, yet not quite there.

It was hot.

Like, "melting inside your soul" kind of hot. The kind that made you question your life decisions—especially when said decisions included dragging your city-slicker friends to a literal rice field before noon.

"I THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE LIKE A COTTAGECORE SHOOT!" Brice shrieked from three rows down, flapping his straw hat like it could summon air. "WHERE ARE THE AESTHETIC BASKETS AND FLOWERS?"

"You watched one Pinterest video and suddenly you think farm life is a picnic," I shouted back, laughing as I dug my hands into the muddy patch, gently placing another sprout.

Luther, beside him, was sunburned on exactly half his face and whining like a dehydrated cat. "I need SPF 200. This is homicide by ultraviolet light."

Zeke, on the other hand, was suspiciously thriving. "I like this," he murmured, completely zen, squatting perfectly while planting rows like a man in a rice field perfume ad. "This is peace."

Meanwhile, Matt?

Matt was struggling.

He had dirt on his cheek, his shirt half untucked, and he had been fighting a worm for the last five minutes like it personally offended him.

"This thing has TEETH," he said, brandishing the smallest earthworm I've ever seen like it was a jungle monster.

"It's literally helping the soil," I replied, smirking, wiping my own brow with the back of my hand. "Unlike you."

Matt huffed and rolled up his sleeves higher. "You're mean when you're muddy."

"And you're dramatic when you're alive," I said.

But truth be told? Watching him try to survive farm life was... kinda adorable. There was something absurdly sweet about him pushing through the heat, the sweat, the dirt—all of it—just to be near me.

Ugh. Gross. Feelings. No thanks.

"Okay," Matt said beside me as he knelt to place another seedling. "Tell me again—do I pat it like a dog or press it down like a grudge?"

"It's not an ex. Just gently plant it, not bury it alive."

He laughed, and then... we both reached for the same seedling.

Our hands touched.

I looked up. He looked up.

It was that moment. You know that moment. When time pauses. The background noise blurs out. His face was too close, eyes a little too soft, and his lips...

Oh no.

No no no no no.

Abort mission.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

The wind blew.

He brushed the dirt from my cheek with his thumb, slow and gentle.

"Nate..." he whispered.

My heart? Betraying me. Beating like it knew something I didn't.

And then—

"SNAKE!!!" Brice screamed somewhere behind us.

Matt and I both yelped like synchronized banshees, falling backward into the mud like two idiots in a romcom directed by chaos.

"THAT WAS MY BELT, YOU DRAMA QUEEN!" Zeke yelled.

But the damage was done. My shirt was soaked. Matt's entire back was now the color of the field. And the almost kiss?

Ruined. Thank God.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked, coughing through laughter, extending a hand as he tried to stand.

"I have mud in places I shouldn't," I groaned.

Still... I let him help me up.

And maybe I didn't pull my hand away right after.

Maybe.

We spent the rest of the afternoon pretending we weren't watching each other too much. That our knees didn't accidentally touch when we sat on the field edge during break. That I didn't notice how Matt kept glancing at me whenever I smiled at something stupid Brice said.

My heart? Still suspicious.

But a little less guarded.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

By the time we finished the third row of seedlings, Matt looked like he had fought the earth and the earth won.

He had a leaf stuck in his hair, one glove missing, and a visible streak of mud across his cheek like war paint.

"You look like you just survived an apocalypse," I said, squinting as I stood beside him.

Matt blinked at me. "And yet, still hotter than your usual type."

I almost choked on my laugh. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play innocent, Villanueva. I've seen your drama co-stars. You definitely have a type. Brooding. Messy. Emotionally complicated—"

"Did you just describe yourself?"

He smirked. "Maybe I'm just trying to live up to your expectations."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the fact that I was, in fact, trying not to smile like an idiot.

Matt leaned in closer, mock-whispering like we were in on a secret. "Admit it. You think I'm hot when I'm dirty."

"Oh my god—stop talking."

"But you're blushing."

"I'm sweating," I snapped, flicking a bit of mud onto his arm. "Unlike you, I'm actually doing work."

He gasped dramatically, grabbing a fistful of soil. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would."

"What are you two doing?" Brice called from a distance. "If you're gonna flirt, can you at least do it over there and not next to the baby sprouts? They're impressionable."

"I'm not flirting," I said way too fast.

Matt just smirked and winked. Smirked and winked.

That should be illegal.

Later, we took a break under the shaded bamboo hut where the local workers brought us water and sweet rice snacks. Matt was gulping water like a camel and wiping his neck with a towel.

I was watching.

Casually.

Totally casual.

"Caught you staring," he whispered.

I looked away instantly. "Delusional. You're probably just hallucinating from heatstroke."

He leaned his chin on his palm, facing me. "Then at least let me hallucinate with good company."

I tossed a rice cracker at his face.

He caught it. With his mouth.

"Show off," I muttered.

He grinned and chewed like a smug golden retriever.

"You know, this whole farmer cosplay suits you," I teased. "Too bad you still walk like your designer shoes are crying."

"I'll have you know I've only slipped twice today," he said proudly.

"Three times."

"ONE of them was a slope!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, 'city boy.'"

We both broke into easy laughter, the kind that makes your chest ache in a good way.

And for a second, sitting there with the sky turning orange behind the rice fields, a breeze cutting through the air just enough to make it bearable, I forgot everything else.

The drama. The kiss. The issues. Nathan.

Because somehow, through the bugs and dirt and teasing—

This felt... okay.

Like something real.

And I hated how much I liked it.

Matt nudged me with his shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

"About how I should push you into a puddle."

He laughed. 

Just then, I heard someone call from behind us. "Nate!"

My head snapped toward the voice—familiar, warm, and oh my god, him?

"Gab?!"

A tall, tan guy in a plain white shirt and jeans came walking toward us, grinning like sunshine bottled in human form.

"Gabriel?!" I shot up to my feet so fast that Matt almost fell off the bench.

I ran over and practically jumped into his arms. We hugged tight, like the kind of hug that says, Wow, it's been forever and I've missed you stupidly.

Gab pulled back and gave me that smile—the one he always had back in high school that made my teenage brain short-circuit.

"You haven't changed at all," he said, ruffling my hair.

"And you still talk like you walked out of a Thai drama."

We both laughed, and I swore I felt lighter just being around him. It was nostalgic. Safe. Sweet.

Behind us, I heard Brice's voice, just loud enough for Matt to hear:

"That's Gabriel. Childhood best friend slash Nate's long-time crush."

Matt: "..."

I turned around casually and—wow. Matt looked like he just bit into a lemon rind. His jaw clenched, his brow tight, and his smile? Gone. Vanished. Missing in action.

Brice nudged Zeke. "I think someone's glitching."

Matt stood up a little too suddenly and brushed imaginary dust off his pants. "So... who's this?" he asked, walking over and inserting himself between me and Gab like he was my personal security guard.

Gab raised an eyebrow but smiled. "Gabriel. You are?"

"Matt. Boyfriend," he said with just enough emphasis to make me internally scream.

Brice coughed into his hand. "Fake, boyfriend," he muttered under his breath like a troll in the background.

Matt glared.

Gab, unfazed, chuckled and said, "Nice to meet you. I've known Nate since we were little."

"Cool," Matt said, voice tighter than his jeans.

I stared between them—Matt in full jealous golden retriever mode, and Gab looking like he didn't even notice the incoming storm.

Lord help me.

Was it bad I kinda... liked the tension?

Just a little?

//