Chapter 19
Ella
Why did I ask Briggs about his girlfriend?
I was basically telling him to break up with her.
Now he’s going to think I’m interested in him, which I am definitely not.
I admit he’s hot, so I’m attracted to his looks, but that’s it, other than his intelligence, which I also find somewhat appealing.
I used to think he cheated his way into being second in the class but in the brief time we’ve spent together, I’ve realized he’s actually really smart, and I like smart guys, but that doesn’t mean I like Briggs.
He’s still a bully who uses force to get his way, like with this valedictorian thing.
He hasn’t mentioned it all week, but I know he hasn’t given up.
He’s just been too preoccupied with the accident.
“You think I should break up with her?” Briggs asks with a smug grin. He definitely thinks I’m interested in him. He’s so full of himself. Just because every other female in school wants him doesn’t mean I do.
“Can we just focus on the assignment?”
He comes around the table and sits next to me on the bench.
“What are you doing?” I ask, moving over. I can smell his cologne, and damn, it smells good. Why did he wear cologne to meet with me? Did he think something was going to happen? He has a girlfriend. And I hate him.
“I need to see your screen.”
“I could’ve turned it.”
“This way we can both see it.” He slides over, removing the distance between us.
Is this one of his pranks? Another way to humiliate me? Flirt with me and then make fun of me later for thinking it was real?
It’s not going to work. He can flirt all he wants, but he’s not going to get a reaction from me. I’ve been fooled enough times by his pranks to know better than to fall for another one.
“These are the ideas I have so far.” I turn the laptop toward him.
He turns it back so we can both see and points to the screen. “What’s this one about? It just says cars.”
“For that one I was thinking the chemical mixture from last week’s lab could be used to clean tires, or any outside surface of the car that’s been exposed to tar. I’m thinking we need at least ten ideas. I have ten here but I’m not sure they’re all good. What did you have?”
He takes out his phone and shows me, leaning so close that the sides of our bodies are touching. It makes my pulse speed up, and there’s this odd feeling in my stomach, almost like I’m nervous, which I kind of am, being this close to Briggs.
“I only have five ideas,” he says. “This one’s for a detergent specifically made for mechanics.
It’s related to your idea in that it addresses the chemical’s ability to break down petroleum, but it’d also work on other substances you’d find in a garage.
You could use it to make a detergent for clothes or shop rags. ”
“Or it could be used to wash your hands,” I say.
“Exactly. That was one of my other ideas.” He swipes through his phone.
He listed his ideas in a note-taking app.
It looks like it’s attached to a calendar.
When he flipped through it, I saw tomorrow’s date with things scheduled almost every hour.
I didn’t know Briggs was so organized, or had such a structured schedule.
I assumed he just sat around all weekend and partied.
“You’d need to mix it with a liquid,” he says, “which we should explain in the paper but I don’t think we need to explain which liquid we’d use. What do you think?”
He’s asking my opinion? This isn’t the Briggs I know.
He always assumes he has all the answers and doesn’t even ask for input.
I guess I can’t really say that since I’ve never had to work with him before.
I just know him as the bully who takes down anyone who doesn’t agree with him, or worship him, or beg for his attention.
“I don’t think we need to be that specific,” I say, “but I do think we need to describe how the chemical works. We should describe the properties of... what’s the word? I can’t think of it.”
“Surfactants.”
“Yeah.” I smile at him, impressed that he knew what I was talking about.
He really is smart, which I find to be even more attractive than his looks.
Other girls are impressed by his rugby skills, but I don’t care about that.
I like a guy with brains, someone who can talk about stuff like this and actually understand it.
I need to find a guy with Briggs’ intelligence and good looks that isn’t an ass.
I start jotting down notes, assuming I’ll be writing the paper. Briggs hasn’t offered to, and I don’t want to argue with him about it.
Half an hour later, I’m still scribbling down notes when one of the coffee shop employees stops at our table. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing soon. Actually, we closed at eight thirty.”
“Sorry,” Briggs says. “We didn’t know.”
“It’s fine.” She smiles at him. “We just need to get the tables cleaned, so if you could be out in a few minutes.”
She walks off, and I hurry to gather up my stuff.
“I didn’t know they closed this early,” I say, shoving my laptop in my bag.
“We’ll just go somewhere else.” Briggs gets up and takes our coffee cups to the trash.
I watch him, my eyes lingering on his muscular arms and broad shoulders. When he turns to walk back, I quickly look back at the table, picking up my pens and notebook.
“You hungry?” he asks as we leave the coffee shop.
“Maybe. What are you thinking?”
“Let’s find a restaurant and finish up there. I need to eat. I’m starving.”
“You didn’t have dinner?”
“I did, but I eat a lot. I eat five or six meals a day. I have to because I work out so much. Let’s go to that sports bar down the street.”
Briggs gets there first and waits for me in the parking lot.
I would’ve thought he’d go in. He’s being really strange tonight, like an actual person instead of a jerk.
I’m sure it’s all an act, but I don’t know why he’d put on a fake nice act to do our assignment.
He could be his usual asshole self and still get the work done.
We find a high-top table, and he sits across from me. He orders a burger and a double order of fries so we can share. I’m not really hungry, but I can always eat fries.
We spend an hour discussing our ideas, getting sidetracked a few times by talking about random topics that come up.
Briggs tells me he played football as a kid, but his parents made him switch to rugby.
He didn’t say why, and he made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but I heard a hint of anger in his voice when he told the story.
I get the feeling he doesn’t get along with his parents.
“Is your mom planning a big graduation party?” I ask as we wait for the check.
“I’m not even sure she’s coming. She hasn’t said.”
“What do you mean?” I laugh a little. “Of course she’s coming. Parents live for this stuff.”
“Not mine.” He looks around the restaurant, trying to find the waitress.
“You’re joking, right?”
He looks back at me. “My mom doesn’t live here. It’s a long flight to come for just the weekend. I’m sure she’ll show up. She just hasn’t told me yet.”
His mom doesn’t live here? I didn’t know that.
“Where does she live?”
“Rome.” He waves at the waitress. “Can we get a check?”
She smiles and nods.
“Rome, Italy?” I ask.
“Yeah. You didn’t know that?” He takes a drink of his soda.
“No. When did she move?”
“Last year.”
“So your parents are divorced?”
“No, they’re still married. They just don’t live together.”
That’s odd. I’ve never heard of married people living in different countries. My dad said he used to not like it when my mom would go away for just a few days. He missed her like crazy and couldn’t wait for her to come back.
“There’s no way your mom’s going to miss graduation.”
“We’ll see,” he says, like he really doesn’t think she’ll show up.
I can’t believe she’d even consider not showing up. He’s her only child. What mom doesn’t want to be at her kid’s graduation?
“You’re having a party, right?” I ask as the waitress stops by with the check.
“It’s not really a grad party. It’s more of a party for clients of the firm. My dad hired someone to plan it.” Briggs drops some cash on the table.
“I can pay for mine,” I say, getting my wallet out.
“Don’t worry about it. I can pay for your drink.”
“I also had fries.”
“They were mine. I just shared.”
“Thanks.” I put my money away.
He doesn’t rush to get up, so I decide to ask him more.
“So it’s just you and your dad? Living in that big house?”
“It’s not that big.”
“Are you kidding? It’s huge! It looks like a hotel.”
“Yeah, I guess it kinda does.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I hate it. I liked our old house better but my dad wanted something new when my mom moved out. He has clients over sometimes and he wanted a house that had more of a masculine look.”
“So nothing warm and cozy?”
“Hell no. He hates that shit. He likes cold and uncomfortable.” He looks up at the TVs lining the wall. “So how about you? You having a grad party?”
“Yeah. My dad said he’s planning it but I’m going to help him. He’s not good with stuff like that. It’s more of a mom thing.”
Briggs nods, seeming uncomfortable. Is it because I mentioned my mom?
“I can talk about her,” I tell him. “It doesn’t bother me, not that we have to talk about her. I’m just saying, I don’t mind if people ask me questions.”
He pauses, then says, “Do you remember her?”
“Only a little. I have a few memories of her but sometimes I’m not sure if they’re real or if I made them up. I have to ask my dad to know the answer.”
“Why would you make them up?”