Page 56 of Forecheck
The bitch had even tagged me in it.
“Shit,” Berkley said.
I reached for her hand. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re together, right? It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” She rose so fast that her chair clattered to the floor behind her as she stormed from the restaurant. If all eyes hadn’t been on us before, they were now.
Unsure what had just happened to elicit such an outburst, I followed quickly after her, and found her seated on a nearby bench. She inhaled and exhaled rapidly, her outward breaths puffing the air in front of her face.
I sat next to her, curling an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Okay, look,” I said. “I know we wanted to keep this to ourselves as long as possible, but it’s not that bad.”
While Berkley’s phone remained mostly silent in her hand, mine, unfortunately, had started to chime nonstop from my pocket. It annoyed me enough that I withdrew it and turned ondo not disturb.
Internally, I winced. Okay, so maybe things were worse than I thought.
“Not that bad?” she shot back, shrugging off my arm. “Brent, they don’t even know me, and they’re already saying awful things about me. Because I had the gall to kissyou, myboyfriend. It’s like these people think you belong to them. But you don’t. You belong tome.”
My lips twitched. Her possessiveness was sexy as hell.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me that.”
She scooted away from me. “Not the point.”
I sighed and rubbed my palms down my thighs. For me, this wasn’t a big deal. Berkley was my girlfriend, and I wasn’t going to apologize for or hide it. But I could understand how, for someone not used to the limelight, this one picture on social media—and the resulting attention that, admittedly, was already greater than I could’ve anticipated—had thrown a bomb into the center of her life. My hands itched to grab her and drag her to me, to settle her on my lap and protect her from this mess.
But my inability to keep my hands—and lips—to myself was what landed us here, and I knew she needed her space right now.
Instead, I offered the only thing I could: a solution.
“So we take control of the narrative.”
Berkley looked at me for the first time since I’d come outside, her brows drawing together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we take our relationship public. On our terms.”
Given the circumstances, it made the most sense. I could easily take to Instagram right now and post a photo dump of the two of us, announcing to the world that I had a girlfriend. People would still talk, naturally, but it would completely take speculation out of the equation, and hopefully satiate people’s thirst for more info on Berkley.
For a while at least.
Neither of us were delusional enough to think her anonymity would last long.
At last, Berkley grasped my hand, and I sagged at the contact. “Okay, let’s do it. Together.”
“Together?”
“Together,” she confirmed. “You can share the post and tag me in it.”
My eyebrows rose. “You don’t want to set your account to private or something?”
She shook her head, scooting close again, and I gratefully wrapped my arm around her. “Nope,” she said. “If we’re going to make a real go of this relationship, which I sincerely hope is the case”—she gave me a pointed look, to which I responded with a nod; I’d happily give this girl forever—“then I need to be prepared to step into the spotlight with you. It’s best to rip off the bandage.”
“If you’re sure…”
Inside my chest, unicorns and butterflies pranced across a flowerful meadow, fluffy pink clouds and rainbows hanging in the sky. But I didn’t want to push Berkley into anything she wasn’t ready for.
I should’ve known better. My girl didn’t do anything she wasn’t one hundred percent certain about.
“I am,” she said firmly. “Let’s do it.”
