Twisted-Games

7
BRIDGET
TRIAL MONTH FOUR
By the time graduation rolled around a month later, I’d corralled the
butterflies into a cage, but an errant one escaped twice. Once, when I saw
Rhys petting Meadow, who’d worn him down with her utter cuteness.
Another time when I saw the way his arm muscles flexed as he carried
groceries into the house.
It didn’t take a lot to get my butterflies going. Hussies.
Still, despite the annoying critters living rent-free in my stomach, I tried
to act normal around Rhys. I didn’t have another option.
“Do I get a medal or a certificate of recognition for my incredible
restraint over the past four months?” It just so happened the last day of my
trial period coincided with my graduation ceremony, and I couldn’t resist
teasing Rhys while we waited for Ava to set up the shot on her tripod. She
was our unofficial photographer for group photos today.
“No. You get a tracker-free phone.” Rhys scanned the quad, his
suspicious gaze drilling into suburban dads with beer bellies and WASP-y
moms dressed in head-to-toe Tory Burch alike.
“It’s been tracker-free this entire time.”
“Now it stays tracker-free.”
Apparently, Rhys had never heard of matching someone’s energy. I was
trying to be lighthearted, and he was more serious than a heart attack.
Really, Bridget? This is the guy you want to flutter for?
Before I could come up with a witty response, Ava waved us over for
photos, and Rhys lingered behind while I squeezed into the shot with Jules,
Stella, Josh, and Ava, who was controlling the camera through an app on her