Page 118 of Mexico Can Choke On It
To:Casa Cashmere Events Team
Subject:Updated Seating Chart - Please Don’t Make Me Do This Again
Hi there! Here’s the new arrangement. If anyone asks to switch tables again, I’m setting myself on fire.
Delete.
Hi. I changed everything one more time because apparently I’m a wedding goblin and I hate myself. Chart attached.
Delete.
Dear Team. Seating chart attached. This is version… I don’t know, infinity? Let’s consider this one locked down or else. Cheers, Petra
Send.
I inhale, and boom—my brain’s once again spinning on that what-if carousel, flipping through worse-case scenarios like it’s training for the Anxiety Olympics.
What if he’s having second thoughts about defiling his best friend’s sister?
What if he’s calculating the many friendship rules he’s violated with his dick?
What if he carried my unconscious body over to my room like he was disposing evidence and wants to pretend it never happened?
What if he’s practicing his “lapse in judgment” speech in real time?
I need this humiliating disaster of a trip to end ASAP so I can crawl back to my shitty apartment and never see him again.
“Wildcat, how’s it looking over there? We haven’t gotten a peek yet.”
Gavin jerks me from my daydream(daymare?)right as Bryce enters the room.
He claims the empty chair beside me with calm assurance. Not a single word. No hint of a smile. Not a damn thing to show he remembers that less than eight hours ago, I was his willing prisoner, tied to his bed, moaning for him toplease notquit.
The man’s gone full statue. Silent. Expensive. Gorgeous.
From the corner of my eye, I catch the full effect. A navy suit that emphasizes his powerful shoulders, the very ones that pinned me against walls, doors, and his bed. His hair is smugly styled, those dark-blond strands slicked back. His jaw is clean-shaven now, but last night, when that sexy stubble scraped against my inner thigh…Yes, please.Dear Lord, I made some indecent sounds last night.
He just sits there as if I’m invisible.
Oh, he’s feeling regret. Is that it?Message received. Loud and dickless.
I bet he’s already processed his hot, sweaty miscalculation. He took me for a test drive but has swerved back into his emotionally unavailable lane.
Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
He wants to pretend last night didn’t happen? Fine. I’m on the brink of not giving a single fuck. And you, Bryce Sterling, can choke on every second of it.
I cross my legs, slap on a serene smile, and stare at Echo as he immortalizes my brother’s(ahem)angel-winged penis.
“Bryce?” Gavin shifts in his pose. “You’ve got the best view from there. Initial thoughts?”
“Bold,” he responds.
Oh sure, Gavin gets a whole word from Mr. Manners.
“He’s giving you more than you asked for,” I add. “Really capturing your brand.”
“Bryce, can you take over my ten a.m.?” Gavin asks, clearly getting restless. “This portrait session is running long.”
