Page 2 of Inflame

“A vision board,” he echoes, looking at it as if he is suddenly interested in everything I have been working on this past month.

“So I took your one suggestion, and—”

“Completely ignored it.” He slides into the seat beside me, so neither of us have to look upside down.

I glance over to his look of indifference. I cannot get a read on this man. He lacks the ability to have real conversations—whether it be through text, phone call, or in person. Trust me, I tried. He seriously needs to brush up on his social skills before he dismantles every last thread of patience I have reserved for him. I am being very kind and flexible, since he is my bestie’s fiancé’s brother.

I take a deep cleansing breath. “You suggested us ‘winging it’ and I counter-negotiated that we could—”

“A negotiation implies an agreement onbothsides. I never agreed,” he says flatly.

I lift my butt and pivot my chair so I can read his body language better. It feels like we have beaten around some proverbial bush to the point where there no longer is a point.

My eyes narrow, while his remain laser focused on my every twitch and fidget. No one gets under my skin like this. He is treating me like I am a spectator sport. While I’m not inexperienced when it comes to competitions, it feels like we are knocking heads despite needing to achieve the same goal. If I could do this on my own, I easily would. However, it was made clear when I decided to be the maid of honor that I would be willing to work with the best man on some of the planning.

So, unfortunately, our paths are going to cross a lot since I have my hand in every aspect of this wedding planning extravaganza. Avoidance is not going to be a valid strategy for coping with his mood. Angie lost her mom when she was twelve and then her only sibling when they were eighteen. I’m the closest thing she has to a sister. The least I can do is suck it up and learn to block out his—

I don’t even know.

Sure, we have hung out on a few occasions when I roomed with Angie, but this just seems different. It’s like he is staring into my soul, without my permission granted. It is borderline violating to feel this stripped down.

Nic is just so different from most men I have encountered, and I have dealt with a lot of different types. Hell, I either am making myself sound super slutty or super old, and I’m not sure which is better.

I need to get this meeting back on track before he railroads me further off course. “Where were we,” I mumble, looking over my vision board.

“I think we were about to discuss how you took my suggestion to keep our schedule loose and less rigid,” he says, sipping his drink but never removing his eyes from me.

I frown down at my ideas. I have spent a lot of time researching the attractions and events that Las Vegas has to offer to give Angie and Graham the best joint bachelor and bachelorette party that they deserve. Neither of us has ever been there, so naturally I wanted to plan enough touristy activities, while still hitting up a couple off-the-strip places. What has Nic done? Tried to veto nearly everything I proposed to him via email, to the point that I stopped sending him any information. That brings us to this very moment, where I’m still met with a roadblock.

“We are planning this trip together, Nic. Please work with me. Your brother is an extreme control freak, and I promised Angie that all she will need to do is pack her bags and show up at the airport. I would have everything—”

“We,” he interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

He motions with his finger between us. “I’m just pointing out thatwewould have everything handled. As in you and me.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say.” I throw my hands up, knocking over my sealed water bottle, sending it rolling off the table.

Nic leans over, catching it midfall. “Can you just calm down?”

I exhale so strongly that the air expelling from my lungs cause the flaps on my board to flutter wildly, some strips barely hanging on. I count to ten, forward and backward. I twirl the loose hair that hangs from the end of my braid around my finger. Does he not realize how aggravating it is for a man to tell a woman to calm down—especially when she is not acting hyper or crazed? How does he not know that he is supposed to save that question in his arsenal and only use it when absolutely necessary? Now is not necessary. He has a sister and a mother who are both lovely. How did he not learn anything from them?

“Let’s just verify that we have all of the checklist items marked off our list,” I suggest, trying to start over with this meeting. “Did you book the hotel and plane tickets?”

“Yes.”

“How are we handling the cost of these big-ticket items? Each pay half?”

“No.”

“Divide it four ways?” I counter.

“No.”

“Can you share your idea without the use of a monosyllabic word?”

“Yes.”

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