Page 71 of The Bad Brother
The Grilled Cheese Guy: Her name is Gemma. I’ve known her since she was climbing trees and catching frogs.
Don’t do that, Sloane.
Don’t trust him.
Me: Was there something else you needed? I’m late for an appointment.
The Grilled Cheese Guy: No. Just to tell you that I expect an apology when you get home. Enjoy your fancy lunch at the club.
Looking around, I halfway expect to find him watching me from behind a potted palm.
Nope.
No Jensen.
Just a bunch of snotty rich people giving me side-eye and whispering behind their hands. I suddenly remember that the last time I was here was for my engagement party with Ethan and most of these people were there, witnessing the beginning of the end.
Me: How do you know where I am? Did Cade tell you?
The Grilled Cheese Guy: Where else would a creeker go, all dressed up, on a Saturday? And why does Cade of all fucking people always seem to know where you are?
Me: Who’s jealous now?
The Grilled Cheese Guy: Me. I am.
Me: is that why you ignored me when Icame downstairs?
The Grilled Cheese Guy: Yes. I took one look at you, knew where you were going, and got jealous. I’m still jealous.
Staring at his answer, my heart tries to run away again and it takes every shred of self-preservation I can muster, to rein it back in.
Don’t do that, Sloane.
Don’t trust him.
Before I can think of something to say that won’t make me sound needy or pathetic, he saves us both.
The Grilled Cheese Guy: You never answered my question. What’s with all the candy in your nightstand?
Even though the answer is embarrassing and I want to tell him fuck off for snooping through my personal space, I decide to answer him honestly.
Me: I have panic attacks sometimes. The candy is a grounding technique. If I manage to catch it in time, the citric acid is sour enough to overpower my panic and give me enough space to get myself under control.
The Grilled Cheese Guy: You have panic attacks?
Not anymore.
Not since I met you.
Me: They’re not as bad as they used to be.
A long pause. So long that I’m sure he’s going to leave me on read. Getting ready to shove my phone back into my bag, a text pops up.
The Grilled Cheese Guy: Have I ever been the cause of one?
I stare at this question for a few seconds before I answer.
Me: No
