Love Her Wilde

Decision Time: Asher

She didn't talk to me at all. Not after she left the beach, not the next morning at the airport. Not on the flight. Not a word.

Nothing.

But it wasn't like I had tried. I hadn't. I hadn't spoken to Bridget either. I hadn't really spoken to anyone, not about anything that mattered, which only made me realize how much of a chicken shit I truly was.

We arrived back in Chicago around six the following evening. Everyone was pretty quiet, a lovely mix of tired and hungover, and ready to be at home. But as I walked up to baggage claim, it seemed as though my night was just beginning.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath.

Mason's eyes were wide as he spotted the reason for my anxiety. "Is that..."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I groaned. "Is it too late to go back?"

"She definitely already saw you, pal."

"Fuck my life."

I attempted to steel my nerves as Bridget clacked toward me on the least sensical airport footwear I'd ever seen.

"Is something wrong with your phone?" she instantly barked.

"No..."

"So you just ignore me?" Bridget retorted, her posture ready for battle. "Real mature, Asher."

"Bridge, look..."

Suddenly her eyes flitted over my shoulder and I glanced back, my world imploding the second my eyes met Dylan's.

"Oh, look who's here."

"Of course she's here. We were all on the same flight," I mumbled. "Can we please do this privately? There's no reason to cause a scene."

"You fucked her, didn't you?"

"Bridget! Jesus!"

The fire in her eyes re-directed again as Dylan stopped by the conveyor. "It's nice to know I was right about who you are as a person."

Dylan just looked confused. "I'm sorry? Do I know you?"

"You can sleep with my boyfriend, but you don't know who I am?" Bridget asked with a maniacal cackle. "So classy."

I watched as realization dawned across Dylan's face. Her jaw set tight and her eyes went almost life-less. "I didn't sleep with your boyfriend."

"Right. I'm sure."

Shayne stepped in front of his sister, setting a hand on his hips and giving Bridget a disdainful up and down glance. "Look, honey, I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you have a problem with something your boyfriend did, you should probably talk to him. Not my sister."

"I'll talk to whomever I see fit," Bridget retorted. "Maybe you should tell your sister to stop being a home-wrecking skank."

"Bridget, stop," I growled. "I didn't sleep with her, alright? And even if I did, that's on me. Not her."

"Are you honestly expecting me to believe she's not the reason you've completely ignored me the last two weeks?"

"You told me not to talk to you until I had my shit figured out!" I cried. "And judging by fucking Instagram, you had your time pretty occupied by fucking Clint, so I didn't think you really cared!"

Bridget's eyes narrowed in my direction. "Clint is my friend."

"That you conveniently only hang out with when you're mad at me," I retorted. "Honestly, how stupid do you think I am?"