Page 7 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
Nails biting into the surface of the counter, I glared at my reflection, then pointed an accusatory finger at my own splotchy face.
“Just because he knows your name and how big you like your dicks doesn’t mean the man can intimidate you. You’ve won employee-of-the-month six months in a row. You successfully tamed Mr. Pickles into somewhat of a pet. You survivedBrendon. You’re made of tougher stuff than this. Stop freaking out.”
I didn’t respond to myself because I was already feeling out of my mind, and good god,what the fuck was I doing?Talking to myself in the mirror. Giving myself a goddamn pep talk.
I was ridiculous.
Today had been disaster after disaster after disaster—and I hadn’t even boarded the plane yet.
I was exhausted by it all, to be frank.
It didn’t help that I’d been up all night, fretting about the wedding and working overtime from home to finish a design for a client that needed approval while I was away.
But no more.
I would not allow myself to be intimidated any longer, dammit, karma be damned.
I’d figure out what the hell this man wanted—how he knew my name—and then pop my headphones in so that I could zone out until it was time to board my flight. If I cut him down with an efficient interrogation, he’d leave me alone.
We’d all be happier.
Me, especially.
Splashing more icy water onto my face and fueled by righteous indignation, I practically stomped out of the bathroom, across the hall, and back to the seat (and backpack) I’d abandoned a few minutes prior.
Unsurprisingly, the asshole had not left the chair beside mine.
In fact, he’d settled in. His legs were still spread, his own carry-on parked on the seat to his right. He hadn’t pulled his phone out—like a normal person would. He’d obviously been waiting for me, because as soon as I paused in front of him, his trademark smirk graced his lips.
If he wasn’t an asshole it would’ve been a nice smile.
But he was.
So it wasn’t.
In fact, I kind of wanted to punch it.
He had ridiculously pretty eyes. Far lighter than my solid, basic blue. Framed by thick dark lashes that drooped rather than curled, they gave him a striking appearance when paired with his other features. There was a slightcrook to his nose, almost like he’d broken it and it’d set slightly wrong—but aside from that, he was infuriatingly perfect.
Eyes sparkling with amusement, the stranger nudged my abandoned backpack with the toe of his shoe. It was the same shoe that had touched Neil, a fact that had not escaped my attention. “Don’t worry, I kept your bag—and its contents—safe.” He waggled his brows. “There’s no need to thank me. Just doing my civic duty.”
He looked far too pleased with himself. Like he truly thought that he’d done me a favor by not allowing me to be robbed.
What a dick.
“How did you know my name?” I demanded without acknowledging his words, still flushed, and…dripping. I slashed my blond bangs out of my face, irritated when they only fell forward again. What was the point of gel if it didn’t fucking work?! “Are you astalker? Is that what this is? Dear god, am I about to bemurdered?”
A voice in the back of my head whispered,if you die, you won’t have to go to Roderick’s wedding.
Ugh.
Roderick.
My first boyfriend. We’d remained friends even after the breakup. Another bad decision. I should’ve known that keeping that door open would lead to being strong-armed into attending his pending nuptials.
We’d broken up before I moved to New York over a decade ago so I wasn’t necessarilysurprisedhe was tying the knot. I was happy for him, honestly. Even though he’d never been the best match for me, I’d always hoped one day he’d end up happy. He and his fiancé, Juniper, had looked…peaceful, honestly, on their wedding invitation.
I could admit, I’d looked at it for an unhealthy amount of time the day it arrived in the mail.
