Instead of going into these details with Grayson, I take a greater interest in the spider crawling up the gray-painted brick. Its tiny legs are barely visible from where I’m sitting.
Its sauntering eventually comes to a stop, then she turns, until her eyes meet my own. Tiny little red dots, so small I can barely see them. She didn’t come across as malicious, menacing, or the kind of person who’d pressure you into doing something against your will. She was living her best life and letting me live my own.
“She’s kind of cute, isn’t she?”
“Are we talking about Vivienne?”
“No, you idiot, I’m talking about the spider on the wall!”
His gaze shifts to where I was looking at moments ago, surprised that I’m telling the truth. The slight nod of his head proves my point. Madame Spidey—as I’ve decided to call her—is one cute thing.
“You’re deflecting,” he states the obvious.
“Does it matter when my best friend has betrayed me?”
When Grayson hesitates to answer, I let out a long, frustrated sigh, duck under the ropes of the ring, and make my way to the punching bags lining the opposite wall.
One. Two. Three hard punches. I let out my anger over this situation as best as I can. On the fourth, the bag freezes midair despite the strength I’ve put into it. I glance to the side to see Grayson holding it with two hands, ceasing my satisfaction of watching the silly thing swing from brute force.
“I thought it might be good for you.”
I snort. “What part of that did you think was good for me?”
“I thought that if you took care of your fixation with her lips, and she was a really bad kisser, your next six months would be easier. You wouldn’t catch feelings, and you’d leave the engagement intact.”
I roll my eyes in disbelief. “Well, congratulations, buddy, you made it worse!”
And that’s putting it mildly.
The news that broke out following the engagement party was anything but good, thanks to a video of our uncalled-for PDA. According to the mass media,“people in real relationships don’t kiss like that.”Whatever the fuck that even means.
I assure you—that kiss felt real.
If the past two weeks have taught me anything, it’s that social media never makes much sense. It operates on two extremes—heaven and hell, with no in-between. When you’re in their good graces, all is fine, but the second they decide to switch their perception of you, it’s game over. You can kiss your career and business goodbye.
So far, no part of this charade is actually working.
I’ve tried contacting Everett Staines to explain my side of the story, but nothing. His team won’t respond to me either. Investors are continuously emailing to back out, and as it stands, that electric plane deal is slipping through my fingers.
I’m losing hope in Melanie. I’m losing faith in myself and this company. And it’s only amplified by the stress of not doing the things I love.
Visiting my family. Cooking.Actualengineering—not this administrative bullshit. It doesn’t seem like any part of this is looking up in the near future.
“Look, things might be complicatednow, but it’ll settle down later.” Grayson’s voice softens. “They always do. Don’t worry about it too much.”
I huff in annoyance. “And how do you know this?”
My best friend shrugs. “That’s how these plot lines usually go.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes.
If I hear my life being compared to a book one more time, I might lose it.That man is out here spewing words like he’s Shakespeare himself, and if he doesn’t let go of that punching bag right this second, I’ll gladly choose the next best thing as a replacement.
Him.
Whatever look crosses my face forces him to step away.
“Fine. I’ll drop it. All I’m saying is that your reputation won’t fix itself overnight. It might take months at best and years at worst. I thought I was making it better for you in the short-term.”
