EXCEPTional

Ch. 13 (Chance)

*Chance*

      I stared up at the ceiling, grinning. Somehow, I always managed to break Bridget's resolve just enough to get her to grudgingly agree to go places with me. Maybe my charm affected her more than she cared to admit. Or maybe she just didn't want to fight with me tooth and nail over everything, since we were both surprisingly stubborn asses. Whatever the case, I now had plans for the next day.

      With a yawn, I checked my phone a final time for any texts or calls, since I now expected them from Adriana and Marcus. When I saw I had no notifications, I put my phone on silent and tossed it to the side. I settled in bed, eyes closing. The last thought on my mind was what Bridget would be like if she did, in fact, get a cat.

...

      I didn't bother looking at my phone until I showered and dressed. I had talked on the phone way too often with only a towel on lately, so I waited until I was completely clothed.

      Even then I didn't look. I just headed downstairs and into the kitchen for breakfast. And while the kitchen was fully stocked so I could make a lavish first meal of the day (thanks to a mom who wanted to be a gourmet chef), I decided on a simple bowl of cereal.

      While I ate, I thought of places to eat in Brimwell. I considered the Italian restaurant, but when I recalled Bridget's reaction the last time I'd mentioned it, I quickly crossed it off my list. I sat eating my now-soggy cereal, thinking of restaurants. Maybe we could go to that little Mexican restaurant downtown.

      Finished, I stuck my empty bowl in the sink and told myself I'd deal with it later. I headed back upstairs and turned on my computer, checking again to see if the media had found me yet.

      When I read the headline, "Olson is Back in Brimwell," I sighed. News articles from around the world spoke of my vacation in the little town I called home. One even said, "Mystery Solved: Chance Olson's Vacation Spot Revealed."

      I sat back in my desk chair, arms crossing. I knew the media would catch on eventually, but I hadn't even been here five days. I had hoped to keep this a secret for a little longer. Mostly because Bridget would despise the limelight, and my chances of going to lunch or dinner or any meal with her would slim dramatically.

      My lips pursed. Someone had to have said something to an informant. A chronic gossiper was the only way this could've slipped so soon. Now, anyone in Brimwell could have posted something about my visit online, but Brimwell was good at keeping secrets. Someone who had a motive to mention my visit would be the culprit.

      I grabbed my phone, ignoring the texts from the usual gang. Immediately, I called a friend and waited for him to answer.

      "This is Giavanne. What can I help you with?"

      "Giavanne, did you tell the media about my whereabouts?" I demanded, eyebrows knitted together.

      "Chance!" he exclaimed, sounding surprised. "Why do you ask?"

      "Did you?" I asked, even though his response had been answer enough.

      He sighed. "Yes," he admitted, "I did. I called a friend in the photography business, and news spread quickly after that."

      I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why, Giavanne, why did you call that photographer friend?"

      "I wanted to make sure it was all right if I did a shoot with you," he explained.