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I can’t walk in there.
I can’t be this in public.
This exposed.
I just can’t.
I just fucking can’t.
Turning on my heels puts me face to face with Hurst who simply folds his arms firmly across his chest and narrows his vision.
Right.
His job is not only to physically to protect me but to insure I walk my ass inside.
That I fight for what matters more to me than my fear.
I uncomfortably nod, turn back around, and nervously enter The Bower and Powell Aquatic institute. Upon stepping foot inside, a gush of relief washes over me as memories of wandering around after hours with Bryn grab me by the hand.
Lead me to the ticket desk and give me the voice to announce I’m here for my private tour.
Despite the looks of disgust from passing patrons, along with the curious ones from children, I keep my chin up.
Composure intact.
I ignore the pounding against my ribcage until it stops courtesy of the yellow polo wearing beauty strolling over to us.
Her eyes meet mine, filling with shock and awe and irritation, yet her frame continues to stay enroute, only stopping when it’s reached its destination.
“This is your private tour guide for the afternoon, Brynley,” introduces the ticket woman whose name I can’t recall. “Brynley, please meet The Institute’s very special guest of honor, Mr. Wilcox.”
It clearly takes every fiber of her being to force on a phony smile and extend her palm politely in my direction. “Mr. Wilcox.”
I squeeze her grip warmly and let my touch linger in hers as I insist, “Wes.”
She practically rips her hand away prior to glancing at the member of my security that’s accompanying me. “Lurch.”
“Miss Winters.”
The flicker of a smile precedes her ushering us the direction she would like us to take. “If you two will follow me, we’ll begin the tour to the right.”
“Lead the way.”
And she does.
Although, damn near running out of my sight is not quite what I had in mind.
Our arrival at the first exhibit is in silence.
As is our second.
And third.
And fourth.
However, rather than allow us to continue the pattern in the next room, Hurst forces her to speak by doing what it is I should be.
Asking questions.
