Matilda Hayden grew up with her father in the Elite Upper Class of Boston, and she quite enjoyed her life- thank you very much. She didn't have many complaints. She was going to be attending Yale, her dream school. She had her best friends with her...
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S4. E8
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧
Matty spent the rest of her weekend at the dance studio from open to close, away from the prying eyes of her roommates. Every time the brunette emerged from her room, they looked at her like her dog was just put down. At the dance studio, no one bothered her. She could lock herself in the private practice room that her grandparents paid for and forget about the world outside. That studio became her own private diary; movements said things that words could never quite capture. Those four walls saw her cry more tears in a single weekend than any living soul had seen in her entire life.
Unfortunately, emotional breakdowns aren't a good enough excuse to miss classes.
On Monday afternoon, Matty found herself in a Yale courtyard flipping through a magazine and sipping on some coffee in between her classes. The Logan mess wasn't the only thing she had been wrestling with. She had enough family drama to last her a lifetime. It had been two weeks since Lorelai reached out, and Matty would have been lying if she said she wasn't interested in taking her up on her offer to call her. Francine had managed to find the number for Lorelai's workplace and gave it to Matty without any questions. She dialed the number at least once a day. She never even let it ring, always hanging up the moment after she would press the call button.
The thing is deep down, she really wanted to talk to her and ask her all the questions she had had since she was a kid; but she was still unsure. She knew her dad wanted her to reach out, but what did she want? Matty had been wrestling with this question for a while, and she was coming to finally accept that Logan wasn't here to help her figure it out. She had to be a big girl and make her own decisions without anyone else's help.
Matty sighed and turned the page to read about Paris Fashion Week when someone sat across from her. She lifted her eyes and saw none other than her twin sister. They hadn't spoken since their argument two weeks ago, and Matty was thankful for it. She was flirting with the idea of reaching out to her mother. When it came to the girl whom she shared a similar face with, there was little desire to interact with her. She wasn't eager to have a repeat of their previous conversations.
"Can I help you?" Matty asked, her hazel eyes narrowing.
"Is this spot taken?" Rory asked, wringing her backpack straps through her hands.
"Yes," Matty answered; her gaze returned to the magazine.
"Um, by who?"
"Literally anyone else," the younger twin replied with a roll of her eyes.
Rory sat down anyways.
"I'm sorry," she said. Matty looked up at her with a sharp glare that could've killed. "I-I was a jerk to you. I made a lot of assumptions about you, and- well, that was wrong."
