This is a problem.
He rejected me last night because…why?
I don't know. He's playing some game I'm not interested in playing with him. I could write off a wedding hookup. People do it all the time, right? They don't have to mean anything. But the stakes of whatever game he's playing feel a lot bigger, and that's not nearly the same as a one-time wedding hookup.
I made the mistake of trusting a guy like him once. Six years later, I'm still not sure I'm entirely healed from the scars he carved into me in front of all his teammates and dozens of my classmates. I won't do it again.
The elevator doors try to close on me.
I sigh, hauling my bag out into the lobby. Aside from Briggs and the desk attendant, the giant lobby is deserted, thank God. I do not need an audience for whatever is about to transpire.
I take a moment to compose myself before stomping toward him.
He waits until I'm standing a foot away to look up from his phone. It's not because he doesn't know I'm there. Oh no. I think he knew the moment I arrived in the elevator. But this is part of his game—making me come to him, making me wait for him. He probably gets off on it.
"Who do I have to kill for doxxing me?"
"Doxxing you?" His lips curve into a panty-melting smirk. "I wasn't aware that's what this was."
"Someone gave you my private info without my consent so you could harass me," I sniff. "What would you call it?"
"Protecting what matters."
How he manages to say that with a straight face, I'll never know, but I just snort, shaking my head. "Does this charming stalker routine usually work for you, Briggs? Because, I gotta say, I'm not into it."
"You think I'm charming?"
I stare at him in disbelief before an abrupt laugh spills out. "That's what you got from what I just said?"
"It was the important part," he says with a shrug. "The rest is irrelevant."
"You being a stalker is irrelevant?" My brows climb toward my hairline. "In no world is that the irrelevant part of that statement, Briggs."
"I'm not stalking you. Sophie asked me to make sure you made it to the airport safely."
So…I'm killing the bride the day after her wedding. Awesome.
"Is this all of your stuff?" he asks, taking my bag before I can even attempt to stop him. "You need anything else before we go?"
"I am not going to the airport with you."
"Why not?"
I gape at him, not sure if he actually hears himself or not. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes." He eyes me levelly. "You need a ride. I can get you there faster than an Uber."
It's way too early in the morning for this…for him.
"You know what?" I throw up my hands. "Fine. But we aren't talking, Briggs. Not a word."
"Not even one?"
I stomp toward the doors when his lips twitch, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
Unsurprisingly, his truck is pulled up right outside. He somehow manages to beat me to it, pulling the passenger door open for me with a ridiculous flourish. I just shake my head and sigh before climbing in, prepared for the longest ride in history.
To my surprise, he doesn't try to talk to me. Instead, he turns the music up, humming along. I spend most of the trip casting furtive glances at him as he drums along to the beat. He's annoyingly chipper, like this is just another day. Like he didn't reject me last night and then basically tell me that he's after more than a wedding hookup. As if I didn't lose six whole hours of sleep because of him.
