Damn.
I don’t know what I’ve done to make her madder since last night. I figured I’d never see her again after that.
“Hold up,” I mutter to Luis as we wait for the car.
He scrolls his emails as I dig through the full chat, trying to catch up.
There’s more name-calling. A lot of name-calling.
Tons of newly invented curse words that would make a fifteen-year-old gamer blush, followed by demands to know what the hell I’ve done.
I don’t understand.
You want to enlighten me? What’s going on?I text back.
Corbin Daniels, my auxiliary driver, pulls up with a Suburban and parks on the curb. As Luis and I climb in, I show him the messages.
“I don’t get what I’ve done to make her so livid.”
“You don’t already know?” He looks at me, almost wincing.
“If I knew, would I be asking?” I stare back flatly.
“Here. I’ve been watching it unfold all morning. I didn’t want to say anything before the test. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He passes me his phone with an article pulled up.
So, Benny’s wasn’t the best place to meet, after all. I thought it’d be fine and we’d melt into the crowd, nice and anonymous.
But I still have times where I forget some people just can’t get enough of Brady fucking Pruitt. And somehow those people found me, which means they found Lena too.
My gut sinks as I flick through the photos.
There’s me on the barstool, leaning into her with a smile and an espresso martini in my hand.
Her taking a sip from her drink. Gesturing.
And then the moment where we’re hugging and she’s crying out her soul.
Fuck.
There are so many pictures of that. One single point of contact, and it’s everywhere.
People thrive off making assumptions if you’re attractive and the least bit famous. When their own lives don’t have enough excitement, they need to borrow mine.
Whatever the motives, the result is the same.
That damn heartfelt hug is plastered all over social media now.
Not just Instagram, but TikTok, X, everywhere.
There are even videos with a so-called body language expert analyzing everything, and three bad lip readings.
I’m so fucking cooked.
“Buddy, this is bad,” I whisper as I scroll the rest with my lip curled.
“Yup.”
I squint at him, wondering at the last time his bluntness was useful.
