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GRAYSON
I stand there, my confusion growing as I take in the scene before me.
Brielle sits in her chair, her usual poise replaced by a flustered edge that has her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. There’s a girl beside her—jet-black hair, skin so tan it screams fake, and dark eyes that flicker with something sharp. And then there’s the guy next to her, looking more boy than man, his eyes wide and uncertain.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice steady despite the tension crackling through the air.
Brielle’s gaze meets mine, her green eyes clouded over, lips parting but no words coming out just yet. The hesitation hangs heavy between us, a question mark bending under the weight of the unexpected confrontation.
Before Brielle can respond, the overly tanned girl steps forward, body language aggressive, eyes blazing. “Oh, we’re just remarking on how much of a bitch Brielle is,” she spits out, accusation dripping from every syllable. “I’d suggest you run like hell if you’re even thinking about getting involved with her.”
“Excuse me?” I growl, feeling protective. My jaw tightens at the venom in her tone, the air suddenly thick with tension. Brielle’s face flushes a deeper shade, her hands clenching into fists as she braces herself against the onslaught. Her silence speaks volumes, but the truth is yet to be revealed.
“Don’t get mad with me. She’s the one who played with Jamie’s heart like it’s some kind of game, and then left him hanging when he proposed.”
“Marina—” Brielle’s voice cracks like a whip, every ounce of hesitation gone. “You think you know everything, but you don’t.”
My eyes lock onto Brielle’s, my body tensing as if preparing for impact. We’re all waiting, holding our breaths for her next words. My hands curl into fists at my sides, ready to defend, but Brielle doesn’t need rescuing—not with that fire in her eyes.
“Jamie and I—” she starts, the sharp edge of betrayal bleeding into her tone. “We stopped being anything real long before he decided to propose.” She pauses, her gaze never wavering from Marina’s. “And you want to know why? Because he was already in bed with you.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Marina’s face contorts, Jamie’s head drops, and I can’t look away from the scene unfolding in front of me. Brielle’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, the flush on her cheeks now replaced by a cold, hard determination.
“Because I wouldn’t sleep with him, he found someone else who would put out,” Brielle continues, her words slicing through any pretense of civility. “That’s the kind of man he is, so trust me when I say that I’ve never been happier with a decision I’ve made. The two of you deserve each other.”
It’s a bombshell that leaves us all reeling, a truth none of us expected to hear in the middle of a sub shop. I can see the hurt buried deep in Brielle’s eyes, despite the anger that fuels her revelation.
Marina’s lips part, her confusion written all over her face. “How…how did you even know about Jamie and me? You weren’t supposed to find out,” she stammers, looking between Jamie and Brielle for an answer.
Brielle’s shoulders square, even as she shrugs nonchalantly. “It doesn’t matter how I know,” she says, her voice steady despite the chaos. “What matters is that it’s the truth, so it’s pretty ironic that you’re here trying to paint yourself to be the good guy when you’re the man-stealing bitch.”
“Screw you.” Marina’s grip is tight on Jamie’s arm, her nails probably digging into his skin through the fabric of his jacket.
He doesn’t protest, just lets her haul him away like a child caught in mischief. His eyes meet mine for a second, a silent plea for something—forgiveness, understanding?
I don’t have it to give.
“Come on,” she hisses at him, voice low but laced with venom. Jamie follows without another word, stumbling slightly as they navigate through the small maze of tables and chairs. The door swings shut behind them with a jingle, cutting off the cold draft and their presence from our space. Good riddance.
I turn back to the table, my gaze colliding with Brielle’s. I blink slowly, processing, the gears turning in my head.
“Wow, did not see that coming,” I say, voice dry as parchment. My hand reaches out, palm open on the table, an unspoken offer of solidarity to Brielle. She looks at it, doesn’t take it, but the gesture stands.
“Yeah,” Brielle breathes out, a half laugh escaping her lips. It sounds hollow. “Lunch dates with me tend to get…eventful, apparently.”
My eyebrows lift, a smile touching the corner of my mouth, but it feels like it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I’m still swirling in the storm of what just happened, the protective instinct that rose within me like a tidal wave.
She gives me a look, almost apologetic, but there’s a fire behind her eyes. Brielle Rose isn’t one to wilt under pressure, that’s clear as day. I respect that about her, always have.
“Welcome to my world,” she says with a wry twist to her lips. It’s her strength speaking, even if she’s shaken. “Never dull, at least.”
“Never dull,” I echo softly, my gaze fixed on Brielle with a new intensity, like I’m fitting pieces of a puzzle together.
I take a seat across from her.
“Grayson, I’m sorry,” she starts, her voice low. “You didn’t sign up for…this.” Her hand flutters toward the door where Marina and Jamie made their dramatic exit.
I lean back, my chair creaking under the shift of weight. I shake my head to dismiss her apology. “Engaged, huh? Didn’t know about that part of your history.”
