Cruise Control

3. Brazil French Toast

Gabby

I take a deep breath, letting the salty sea air fill my lungs, conjuring memories of childhood summers—fishing trips, campfires, and my dad's hearty laughter. With a determined blink, I push those memories aside.

"Hey, princess," a familiar voice calls out from behind me.

I don't even need to turn around to know who it is; the old pet name hits me like a ton of bricks, snapping me out of my thoughts. Without bothering to look at Aidan, I shoot him a middle finger, silently cursing whatever brought him on this trip.

He saunters over, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "Don't be like that, Gabs. Can't we at least try to be civil?"

I scoff, my irritation impossible to conceal. "We don't need to be anything. Just don't talk to me, and we'll be fine."

"You're not gonna be my friend, Gabby?" he pouts sarcastically, his tone dripping with condescension, making my blood boil.

I push off the railing, turning to face him squarely. "Aidan, please, just leave me alone. Seriously, what's your problem?"

He hesitates, as if weighing his response. In a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of something in his expression, but it disappears almost instantly, replaced by his usual arrogant smirk.

"You've been looking hot lately," he says casually, his words cutting through me like a knife. "Maybe I shouldn't have cheated."

Maybe you shouldn't have cheated?

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Aidan's betrayal tore me apart, leaving me broken for months. The smirk on his face suggests his comment was a joke, but there's nothing funny about the pain he caused. Now, as I stare at him, the person I once believed I loved, I realize that all I feel for Aidan Miller is pure, unadulterated hate.

I raise my finger, pointing it accusingly at his face. "You piece of-" I start, ready to unleash all my wrath on him, but my words are cut off by the arrival of a head of curly hair.

Chase steps in beside me, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of concern and anger. "Is there a problem here?" he asks, his voice steady.

Before I can assure him that everything is fine, Aidan's loud laughter fills the air. "No way. Chase Reed, is that really you?"

"In the flesh," Chase replies tightly, his tone indicating he's not in the mood for pleasantries. Then, he drapes his arm around my waist, his touch sending tingles across my skin as his hand settles on the curve of my hip. He glances down at me, a protective gleam in his eye. "Is he bothering you?"

I try to speak, but Chase's closeness has me momentarily distracted, my thoughts jumbled by the warmth of his touch against my skin. Meanwhile, Aidan's smirk has disappeared, replaced by a hostile glare directed at where Chase's arm now lies.

"She's good," Aidan retorts sharply, his expression darkening with annoyance.

Chase's gaze snaps towards Aidan, his expression so menacing that Aidan would have been in serious trouble if looks could kill. "I don't think I asked you," Chase counters, his voice low and threatening.

"I don't care who you asked," Aidan snaps defiantly. "We were in the middle of something before you barged in. Now, why don't you go back to wherever you came from and keep your hands the hell off her?"

Chase's grip on my waist tightens noticeably, drawing Aidan's attention, his scowl deepening at the sight. "I don't think I will," Chase declares, his eyes still locked on Aidan's.

Aidan's eyes flicker briefly towards mine, his expression puzzled as if he's trying to decipher my stance on the situation. It's only then that I realize the unexpected satisfaction I derive from witnessing Aidan's anger. After months of enduring Aidan's callousness and indifference following our breakup, seeing him finally affected is strangely gratifying. His current irritation seems insignificant compared to the hurt he once caused me. So if Chase's hand on my waist is the trigger for Aidan's rage, I have no intention of intervening.