Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Demi’s eyes grow wide. Just as she opens her mouth to respond to that absurd statement, my cell dings with another text. I say a quick prayer that Leo has taken pity and relented.
Instead, I find a message from the very last person I want to hear from.
Let’s meet at Denby’s Diner in an hour to hash out specifics.
A third text rolls in five seconds later.
Sorry, love. Can’t do it.
With no other choice in the matter, I reluctantly agree to meet Brayden.
Chapter Twelve
Brayden
Looking pale and grumpy, Sydney drops onto the seat across from me at a diner that’s a couple of blocks away from campus.
“Hey,” she greets in a monotone voice.
“Nice to see you, too,” I shoot back easily.
She glares before rolling her eyes.
Before either of us can delve into this much-needed conversation, a waitress sidles up to the table to take our breakfast order. Sydney picks up the menu and peruses it. “I’ll take oatmeal, a side of fruit and,” she purses her lips, “a yogurt with a large coffee.”
The girl flicks her gaze in my direction. It only takes a moment before recognition dawns across her face, and she beams. “You’re Brayden Kendricks!”
I force a polite smile to my lips. It’s not uncommon to get recognized both on and off campus. At the moment, though, it’s not helping matters with Sydney. She’s already irritated. Having some overzealous fan gush in front of her will only make matters worse. “Yup, I am.”
The waitress edges closer before dropping her voice. “Can I get your autograph before you leave? My boyfriend would kill me if he knew that I waited on you and didn’t ask. All he talks about is how you’ll turn pro at the end of this year.”
“Sure, no problem.” I shift uncomfortably on my seat, just wanting her to take my order and move it along so I can talk with Sydney. When she continues to stare with a perma-grin plastered across her face, I clear my throat. “I’ll have eggs and lightly buttered wheat toast. Coffee, black. Thanks a lot.” I flash a tight smile, willing her to take the hint and walk away before this situation can turn any more awkward.
It takes a long, drawn out moment for her to snap to attention before scribbling on her notepad. As she takes a reluctant step in retreat, her gaze stays pinned to mine. “I’ll be right back with your breakfast.”
Sydney cocks her head. “All the hero worship must be exhausting.”
There’s not much I can say to that. If I bitch about people bothering me, then I’m an asshole. If I flash a smile and tell her that it’s all part of the job, I look like an egomaniac asshole who loves the adoration.
Either way, I look like an asshole. It’s a no-win situation.
Yeah, I know. Boo-hoo, Brayden. Life is tough.
And Sydney, unfortunately, already thinks I’m a gigantic asshole. I don’t need to do anything that will further confirm her suspicions.
When I fail to respond, she clears her throat and glances away. “So, I’m here. What was so urgent?”
I jerk my shoulders. I had a whole plan in place and now that she’s sitting sullenly across from me, I have no idea what to say. I just want a chance to smooth over what happened last night. To say that she was less than thrilled to be my girlfriend is an understatement. It doesn’t escape me that any other chick would be jumping at the chance to say they were with me.
Not this one.
If the look on her face is anything to go on, she’d rather gouge her own eyeballs out than continue with this farce. At this point, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to change her opinion.
I’ve always known that Sydney didn’t like me, but I’m unsure as to the reason why. I’ve never done anything to inspire this kind of intense dislike. Sure, I enjoy giving her shit, but it’s all been in good fun.
Just as I’m about to broach the subject, a group of college-aged students saunter past on the way to a table in the back. When my gaze flickers to them, they grind to a halt beside us.
“Hey, Brayden,” one of the guys pipes up, “great game yesterday. Congratulations on the win.” His gaze slides to Sydney. “And congrats, I saw on Snap last night that you two are now an item.”
“Yeah,” one of the girls chirps, “now you need a ship name. I was thinking something like Brayney. That’s super cute, right?” Her enthusiastic gaze bounces to Sydney.
I wince.
This girl is way too peppy for ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. She needs to tone it down. And for everyone’s sake, stay away from any more caffeine.
Sydney must agree because her only response is to silently burn holes into the girl.