Page 17 of Never Your Girl

After a handful of silent minutes, he finally opens his own laptop and gets to work. Just as I lose myself in an industry report, he says, “We should probably look for eco-friendly influencers.”

“That was my thought as well. Do you follow any?”

“Nope.”

“I guess it would have been more helpful if our project focused on something fluffy and meaningless like what the next viral challenge was,” I say innocently, scrolling through lists of eco-conscious brands for inspiration.

“Whatever you say, Tate,” he mutters. “Just make sure your influencer buddies know what they’re actually selling.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I reply, voice saccharine-sweet, “I’ll even teach you how to do a sustainable brand launch without blowing the budget on a massive ego trip. If you’re not careful, you just might learn a thing or two.”

His smirk never falters. “Huh. It kind of sounds like you should take the fluffy stuff after all.”

Before I can come up with a scathing comeback, our phones buzz simultaneously. Bridger glances at his cell, and his expression hardens. I reluctantly fish mine out of my bag to see a new anonymous message lighting up the screen.

Anonymous Message

Looks like Sanderson is getting downsized from the hockey team. Apparently Daddy’s money and power can’t buy everything. Hey, Sanderson… Don’t let the locker room door hit you in the ass on the way out.

I glance back at him as fury leaps to life in his eyes.

For just a second, I almost feel sorry for him.

It’s one thing to deal with someone like Bridger head-on but quite another to continually get shit on by some faceless troll on a public forum. The entire university is reading that message.

And what did it even mean?

Did Bridger get benched?

Or worse, cut from the team?

Before I can come up with something to say, he scowls and holds up his phone. “Just fucking admit it, Tate. You’re the one behind this, aren’t you?”

My mouth drops open as my eyes pop wide. “Excuse me?”

He leans in, pressing against the table that separates us, as his expression turns thunderous. “Save the innocent act for someone who’ll buy it. I know you’ve had it out for me since—” His words fall off and his jaw tightens. I blink as a mixture of sorrow and regret flash in his eyes before being quickly masked. “Whatever game you’re intent on playing ends right now.”

A burst of anger flares to life inside me that’s fueled by two years of buried resentment and hurt. “Do you seriously think I’d waste my time or energy messing with you? Please. Like I told you before, what happened between us didn’t mean anything, and it certainly wasn’t something I thought twice about. Hate to burst your bubble, but it was just as boring and unforgettable as every other interaction we’ve had.”

His jaw clenches as his expression hardens into an unreadable mask. “Kind of coincidental that you mentioned my daddy and seconds later, this message with the same reference pops up.”

I stare at the cell in his hand.

Yeah… it is an odd coincidence. I can see how it could paint me in a suspicious light.

I straighten on the chair and notch my chin higher. “It wasn’t me. I know you don’t think much of my word, but I swear it wasn’t.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing.” He tosses the cell onto the table, where it clatters. “I don’t think much of your word.”

The silence between us stretches until it turns taut and electric. When I can’t stand another second of it, I shove my chair back and pop to my feet. There’s zero point in us going around in circles.

“You know what? Screw this and screw you. I’m out of here.”

My hands tremble as I snap my laptop shut and shove it into my bag. Before I can haul it onto my shoulder, Bridger leaps to his feet.

“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”

His fingers close around my upper arm, holding me in place.

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