Exposure • h.s.

CHAPTER26.

Is there any way you can naturally fix your pupils, or maybe request a replacement?

Honestly, I think mine aren't working too well because the guy in front of me can't possibly be my ex-boyfriend, Bradley.

"Mabel? What are you doing here?"

I shake my head like I'm trying to shake off a bad dream, one of those that leaves you breathless and makes you wake up with your clothes stuck to your skin from all the sweat.

To confirm the vision, there's a badge clearly displaying his name, mercilessly kicking any lingering doubts to the curb.

It really is Bradley.
It really is my ex.

It takes me a few seconds to muster the courage to speak, battling the knots that have been tormenting my stomach. Fran, who's been following the interaction with interest, chimes in with a flirtatious, and maybe a bit sardonic "Do I know you?"

Bradley, evidently caught off guard, stammers something and reaches out his hand toward Fran, gripping it firmly. In his eyes, I detect a fleeting glint, the kind he usually gets when he finds a girl particularly attractive.

I hadn't missed that subtly smug look.
His usual predator gaze.
His look.
What surprises me more than the sight is that it seems to have rekindled a dormant resentment and pain in me. Seeing Bradley hurts, his features are like a hand forcefully undoing the stitches I had used to try to mend my stabbed heart.

"Bradley, nice to meet you. And you must be an angel fallen from heaven," he says, trying to be gallant. The attempt falls flat because, in fact, he just comes off as a bit sleazy.

"No, I just happened to come out of my mother's vagina when she gave birth to me twenty-three years ago," Fran retorts, caustic, and extends her hand, squeezing his firmly.

Bradley squirms under Fran's vigorous grip, his limp hand must not be used to such a strong handshake.

The girl then wraps up the introduction, "Fran."

Bradley's eyes refocus on me once he's probably realized that, being Fran a tough girl, he wouldn't be able to easily manipulate her as he's used to and as he manipulated me.

"What the hell are you doing here? That's what I should be asking you!" I say.

With a certain bravado, Bradley clutches the badge hanging from his neck, the plastic with his name inked on it.

He usually wastes no time in rubbing his success in my face, and he's not disappointing tonight.

"Tony gave me a promotion, now I've moved up to Journalist and Content Writer as needed."

Before becoming my now ex-boyfriend, Bradley was my coworker – or more accurately, my underling. Bradley, his only experience managing an independent blog about insects, secured an internship in the sports department at DM Media, a far cry from the gossip world I inhabited. Despite him getting into quite a bit of trouble within his team, I often found myself assisting him, and weirdly, he never faced the axe.

"...you know, DM Media's really taken off, ever since you left, there's been an influx of funds. Word has it Nellie secured nearly six million dollars in funding."

Sounds familiar.

I decide to say nothing about the contract, about my gig with Harry, or my arrangement with DM Media – at least until he hints at being in the know.

"Alright, but what brings you here?" I grill him, yelling over the blaring music, heart racing and throat parched. It's not so much a shock to spot someone from my former workplace at an event, but the circumstances are downright weird.
What on earth is a New York sports journalist doing at an EP launch event clear across the country?