Free The Making of Matt by Nicola Haken

let’s get this shit over with.”
    Only a handful of close friends and Matt’s family - Ashley and Adam - were coming here and travelling in the processional cars with us. The church service was strictly invite only, but judging the security cameras which surrounded Matt’s condo, that didn’t seem to stop the entire world thinking they were welcome. The monitors showed a herd of photographers camping outside the perimeter of the property, scurrying around like vermin, eager to catch a glimpse of a man about to bury his mother.
    But this was his life. It was too easy to forget that Matt was a celebrity sometimes. I could barely remember the Matt I used to ‘know’. The rockstar I would see plastered on the front pages of glossy magazines, the womanizer that flooded the gossip sites or the wayward, drunken, media magnet with women drooling at his feet that Ryder introduced me to.
    Now? He was just Matt. A regular guy. My friend.
    That being said, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t moments when I wondered what the hell was I doing there. Just standing in Matt’s gigantic kitchen, palms resting on the mahogany island, the extravagance would sometimes smack me square in the face. Money and luxury surrounded Matt wherever he went and in everything he did, which by default meant it often surrounded me too.
    I never allowed myself to think of this fortunate lifestyle as my own, of course. I still dug deep into my pockets to find enough loose change to buy a carton of milk, yet it did scare me how used to it all I was becoming. Not least because of how comfortable I felt driving around in a Jag that probably cost more than my apartment. I’d done nothing to earn any of it, so I refused to believe I belonged in this world.
    I forced myself to forget my qualms when Matt walked listlessly into the room. Right now I was here for my friend, not the superstar. I could hardly imagine how hard the day would be for him. I loved my parents, of course, but they lived in Wisconsin and we had a more Christmas and birthdays kind of relationship – not nearly as close as Matt was to his mom.
    “How’re you holding up?” I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged gently beneath my touch and when I looked him in the eyes I saw the precarious tears teetering on the edge.
    A simple touch no longer seemed enough so I shifted closer until my body was aligned with his. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to encase his tall body in my arms and squeeze him so tightly I could feel his racing heart beat against my own.
    “Thank you,” Matt muttered, gripping firmly onto the back of my suit jacket. “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you. I don’t know how you’ve put up with my whiney ass all week.”
    “Because I love you.” Matt’s back stiffened in my arms before he backed away completely, clearing his throat. “You’re my best friend,” I added, because his reaction made me feel like I’d made him uncomfortable. The air became thick with awkwardness and I turned away from him, sticking my head in the fridge and pretending to look for the bottle of orange juice that was right in front of my face.
    After a long, silent conversation with myself I decided I was reading way too much into things. Matt knew I loved him. I’d told him before, I was sure. I’d always been open about my feelings, it’s just the kind of guy I was, and it’d never bothered him before this morning.
    Drop it. He’s grieving for Christ’s sake. I mentally scolded myself and it worked. I was being ridiculous, and selfish given the significance of the day. Even so, I felt a shower of relief rain down on me when Sawyer and Jake arrived, absorbing some of the tension that I may or may not have been imagining.
    “Neil’s outside trying to get rid of some of the photographers,” Sawyer announced after giving Matt a solid hug. “I’ve hired extra security, too. They’re on their way. When they get here we’ll leave