Wild Thing

28. Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Eight

DYLAN

Friday

S omething had changed.

It was the last day of the conference and I was surrounded by architects, interior designers, engineers and project managers in the early morning session.

I really didn’t want to be there.

I felt deflated after Brax abruptly disappeared from the bar the day before.

No explanation, just gone.

I had wanted so badly to text him, to demand some sort of answer for his sudden exit. I wanted to ask him what the hell was going on.

But I’d stopped myself.

He didn’t owe me an explanation, not really. I had to remind myself that we weren't together. He didn't answer to me; he could do what he wanted.

Still, it pissed me off though.

The problem with not asking him directly was that it left my mind spinning in overdrive. I spent the rest of the evening analyzing every little thing, caught in a loop of speculation.

Maybe the reason he'd left wasn’t because of what Greg had said to me.

Maybe meeting Taylor had spooked him.

Maybe there was something else going on, something I hadn’t considered. Like his conscience. Maybe his guilt outweighed any desire to be with me.

I hated how needy I'd become.

As if I willed it into existence, my phone vibrated with a text from Brax.

Come out the front.

What did he think I was doing? Sitting in here, waiting for him to text like a lovesick loser?

Well…that was exactly what I was doing.

But, still. I wasn't about to drop everything and race out the front. I wasn't desperate.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then, three dots appeared again.

He was writing a message and then deleting it.

Part of me got satisfaction knowing that he was attempting to text something that was making him nervous.

I’m sorry for leaving yesterday.

I raised an eyebrow.

It took him three attempts to say sorry?

Yeah, I wasn’t replying to that.

Three dots appeared again.

Wild Thing. I know you’re in there. Come out the front. Please.

Sighing, I scanned the darkened conference room.

Was I really going to waste one of the last few days I had with Brax sitting in this boring, airless room surrounded by wankers?

I had to fly home on Sunday. The thought of what awaited me back at White Point made me feel ill.

Even worse?

The thought of being so far away from Brax.

Another text arrived.

Get your fucking ass out the front right now. Or I’ll come in there, cause a scene and take you anyway.

A smile crept over my face. Ask me to do something nicely? Mightn't happen. Ask me with the promise of a little bit of violence, however? Well, that was an entirely different story.

Fuck it , I decided.

I hastily stuffed my iPad into my bag and quietly excused myself, dodging and weaving out of the row and making my way to the stairs.

Thankful I'd sat in the third row from the back, I slipped out the door into the foyer and made my way to the front of the convention center.

Pushing open the doors, I slid my sunglasses on my face and wondered where Brax was.

It didn’t take long for me to spot him.

Parked illegally, was a white mustang convertible, with Brax leaning against the passenger door. It was my dream car.

Wearing a black tee and black jeans, he looked every inch the bad boy against the starkness of the white mustang. Hat on backwards, his giant arms were crossed, the sunshine illuminating the tattoos on his forearms.

How could I be pissed off when he looked this good?

Brax unlocked his arms, and held them out wide. “Roadtrip?”

Hands on my hips, I surveyed the rental car from the top of the stairs. I didn't want him to know how excited I felt at the thought of being whisked away for the day.

“Dope car.”

"Come down here."

To hell with the cool girl act. I skipped down the stairs towards the car.

As thrilled as I was at the prospect of the unknown, I needed Brax to know that what he did yesterday was not cool. And neither was the subsequent radio silence after the fact.

I stood in front of him and took off my sunglasses. "What the hell, Brax?"

He placed his hands gently on my shoulders. “I’m sorry for bailing yesterday," he said. "It wasn’t because of you. I was angry Greg said something… I wanted to talk to him. Handle it."

"I thought I said no more surprises?"

He hesitated. I wondered why.

"Well, that's a shame, because there's something I want to show you."

"You think I'm just going to skip out on the last day of conference?"

Brax plastered devilish grin on his face. He knew my spontaneous ass would.

"This is our last full day together for who knows how long. You want to spend it sitting inside a windowless room with a bunch of assholes, go for it. Or, you could blow it off and spend the day with me at the beach."

My eyebrows knitted together. "We're going to the beach?"

Smiling, Brax walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk. “Yep.”

"Why?"

“I have something I want to show you. We're leaving the city and heading down the coast. Just for the day," he said, gesturing for me to pass him my handbag. "We’ll be back tonight."

I stole one more glance towards the conference center, before tossing him my handbag.

"Fine. But I'm control of the tunes."

He slid his sunglasses on and grinned. “Whatever you want, baby.”