Spiraled ⚪⭐⚪⭐ (A Brollins Novel)✔

EPISODE SEVENTEEN

Quinn's Mansion. Los Angeles, California.

". . . . it's tall and white and blue and. . . . oh, you can take a shorter route. You just need to turn left then ride on for about five minutes and then. . . ."

"I'm already here, Rebecca."

Her momentary silence--no doubt from shock--followed by a faint gasp is worth the five minutes he has spent on his motorbike listening to her ramble on about all those routes her and her best friend, Ashley, used to take when they were kids to escape her bodyguards. "You are? But you were asking for directions five minutes ago."

He chuckles quietly, "Digital world Rebecca, digital world. What's Google Maps there for? To relieve us of the stress we face in giving unnecessary directions."

He imagines her cracking up a brow at his retort. "You think you're so smart, huh?" There's a hint of playfulness in her voice when she adds, "You have just wasted five minutes of my time, Mr. Lopez. Five minutes I couldn't afford to waste tonight but I wasted them over you. I hope your gift is more than enough as compensation."

'There goes the gift thing again,' he smiles, shaking his head. It's the only thing they talked about apart from the outfit he's to wear tonight for the party in their conversation this morning when he'd texted her. Fearing he'd interrupt her plans for the party was a mild excuse he made when he texted instead of calling. The truth is, he was scared he wouldn't be able to hold himself together if he'd heard her voice. Although Joe advised him this morning to tell Rebecca everything that happened with Mercedes and even about their relationship--which in his mind held no sort of merit from the beginning--he still can't bring himself to. That night for him is meaningless. Telling Rebecca will only cause her pain and a strain in whatever they're going to have in the future. He sees no point whatsoever in ruining what he has with Rebecca over a night he doesn't even recall vividly. He still adamantly believes Mercedes had mixed something in his beer. He has known her for years and although she'll never think of hurting him--she didn't exactly hurt him last night--more than capable of crazy things. He wonders though why she'd grow so desperate as to mix something in his beer so she can have sex with him.

'Did she sense he wouldn't have agreed to spend a night with her? Does she sense he no longer acts normal around her? Does she sense he no longer. . . . loves her? What will she gain from that night with him? Or maybe just as Pamela suggested, he's wrongly accusing her of something that can be as minor as the beer being expired or the product being unsafe for use?'

He quickly shakes the thoughts away, focusing on the present. "What if I tell you I don't have a gift with me? You didn't exactly say at the Sports Club that as part of the requirement for me to earn your forgiveness, I have to bring you a gift. So there's no need for it, is there?" To be frank, he can't decide what he should gift to a person who has everything. Every possible gift that has come to his mind since this morning feels inferior to whatever Rebecca is sure to be presented to tonight.

"What well-mannered, gentleman out there attends a birthday party without a gift?" He can just picture the little pout on her face and the way her eyes will narrow menacingly at him if he was standing in front of her. Since he isn't, he can only envision it and the mere thought of it lightens his heart.

"Perhaps you've forgotten I lack manners Rebecca. There's a reason I stood there watching you for a good minute while you were naked back at Daniel's house. You remember that, don't you?"

He wonders if she's blushing or smiling or both when she says, her voice slightly breathless, "Mr. Colby Lopez, if you don't have a gift with you tonight, I swear, I'm going to kill you," whatever her expression may be, he's certain seriousness is not part of it.