21. Bryn
Chapter twenty-one
Bryn
I’m finishing up a Taylor Swift–themed Peloton cycling class at my hotel in Vegas, thankful the gym in my hotel is empty at six in the morning because I am belting out the lyrics to “Blank Space” as Ally Love kicks my ass.
I’ve been in Las Vegas this week for a tech conference, which happens to align with Jameson’s first tournament back this weekend, also in Sin City. A happy coincidence—or at least, that’s what I told Jameson as we sat on Kelsey’s back porch last weekend after our fight. In reality, it had taken some finagling on my part to get a last-minute ticket to this conference. One of my work friends ended up letting me take her spot, with the requirement that I bring her along to one of Jameson’s tournaments in the future.
I’d told Jameson that I wouldn’t be able to make his first day of play, both because I hadn’t decided if I wanted to skip the conference to watch his first round, and because it felt like I might be a distraction. And Lord knows Jameson has had enough girlfriend-based drama impacting his golf game to last him a lifetime.
After working through Jameson’s insecurities last Friday, we hung out all weekend, watching TV, playing a few rounds of golf, and eating essentially every meal together. We never spent the night with each other, but the days inevitably ended with a long make-out session and some light dry humping. I mean, the man is freaking hot, and his kisses make me feel like my body is on fire. There was no way I was going to be able to resist grinding against his seemingly ever-present erection, especially when his hands would wander under my shirt to play with my nipples.
And…now I’m getting turned on in the gym, which is so much worse than singing.
I unclip from the bike and grab my water bottle, then head to my room to shower before leaving for the day.
I throw on a pair of cute but classic black golf shorts and a royal-blue collared shirt before heading out to the course. Jameson’s tee time is at 9:40 this morning, and I still have to pick up the VIP pass he held for me at Will Call. I offered to pay for my own tickets, especially since I wasn’t sure if I could make it today, but Jameo insisted. He actually seemed so genuinely excited about me coming to watch him that it made me want to go over to Alexis’s apartment, knock on the door, and when she opens it, wham! I’ll cunt punch her. When she’s crying “why?” I’ll say “you know why!”
Okay, I’m not Lake Bell in What Happens in Vegas, but I am in Vegas, and Alexis deserves it. She really did a number on the guy’s self-confidence, and I think she deserves to be punished for that, though maybe losing him is punishment enough.
When it turned out I could make it today, I decided not to tell him I would be watching. I really don’t want to fuck with his head by being there, but I do want to support him. So I’m going to spend my morning following his group and then let him know when we meet up for dinner that my schedule changed, so I was there.
Vegas traffic is at least somewhat manageable in the mornings, the denizens of the Strip still sleeping off their hangovers from the night before, so I opt to Uber to the course rather than taking the shuttle. When I arrive, I’m pleasantly surprised with how busy the course is for a Thursday. From watching golf with my dad growing up, I know the first day of play typically has far fewer spectators than the final rounds on Saturday and Sunday.
I pick up my pass from Will Call and head into the course, searching for some much-needed coffee. Caffeine in hand, I make my way to the number 1 tee box to wait for Jameson’s group. I’m here a bit early, so I get to see the two groups in front of him tee off as well.
While I wait, the crowd grows noticeably larger. Almost all the conversations around me have turned into speculation around Jameson Walker’s return. The man and his wife next to me are currently discussing what a terrible season Jameson had last year. The husband, a real finance-bro type, thinks Jameson is done—can’t bounce back from a year like that. The wife, a petite blonde rocking a golf dress, is totally on Jameson’s side. The husband claims she is biased because she is “swayed by his rugged good looks.” I both want to laugh and to casually mention that he’s dating someone, a surprising urge to claim him as my man.
I do neither, the conversations around me stopping as Jameson walks out with the rest of his group. He looks good. The royal-blue polo with the Titleist logo on the front pulls against his broad shoulders, highlighting his toned arms. I glance down at my own and am somewhat embarrassed to realize we match. His dark hair peeks out from under his black cap with a Nike swoosh, both of his main sponsors having ultimately decided against suspending his contracts.
Jameo is the second to tee off, smacking a drive straight down the fairway at least thirty yards farther than the others in his group. Apparently, the majority of the crowd is here to see Jameson’s group, because we move as a herd down the fairway, leaving behind just a few stragglers to watch the next group tee off.
***
As Jameson taps a five-foot putt in on hole thirteen, the petite, dark-haired woman who joined our group last hole starts clapping louder than everyone else. She’s not clapping loud enough to get kicked out, but it is distracting enough that she could definitely draw Jameson’s attention.
Curious, I slow down a bit as we walk to the next tee box, letting her catch up to me. As she passes, I smile at her good-naturedly and ask, “Big fan of Jameson Walker, huh?”
“The biggest.” She smiles back. “I’m so glad that he’s finally back on the Tour again, though I’m not sure I can handle another year like the last one he had.”
I chuckle. “It was not a great year to be a Jameson Walker fan. At least his friend JT Johnson did pretty well. Are you a fan of JT too?”
She cuts her dark green eyes to me. “No. Definitely not a JT fan.”
“Oh.” I really have no idea what to say in response. I wasn’t aware people felt so strongly about golfers. “Okay.”
We walk in companionable silence next to each other for the rest of the hole, the only two women in the entire group of thirty following Jameo who don’t seem to be here with our boyfriends or husbands. I know I should be jealous of this cute, twentysomething girl who I could fit in my pocket, but for some reason, I’m not. After he shared the shit Alexis put him through, I’m confident this woman could throw herself at him and he still wouldn’t cheat on me. Plus, she hasn’t checked out his ass once—a feat for any hot-blooded individual with an interest in men—so he might not be her type either.
As the players and their caddies analyze the green, she sticks her hand out. “I’m Lila.”
I stare at her for a second before it clicks. She’s Lila . No wonder there isn’t one ounce of interest when she looks at Jameson—they are related.
“You’re Jameo’s sister.”
She looks me up and down. “And you are a superfan who not only knows his sister’s name but also casually calls him Jameo. I am usually better at spotting you all.”
As she turns to go with a grimace that is likely supposed to be a smile, I reach out to stop her. “Oh, shit. No! I’m not a superfan. I mean, I am a fan, but I’m not a stalker or anything.” I smile. “I’m Bryn.” Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to do anything for her. Shit. Jameson has told me all about Lila and her grad school. Has he not told his family about us? I assumed he had, but I definitely don’t want to be the one to break the news.
I’m also actively trying not to think about all of the reasons that Jameson might have chosen not to tell his family about me. A few may be sneaking through my guards, though, since I’m currently thinking am I not good enough for him to tell his family about? And what if they don’t like me?
Unsure what to do, I shoot Lila an uncertain smile and say, “Well, it was nice to meet you. I really promise I’m not a stalker.” I nod and take a couple steps away, turning back to watch the men on the green.
Lila, however, does not seem to be done with our conversation. She moves closer, a quizzical look on her face. “You thought I would know who you are.”
“Uhm,” I glance back up at Jameo on the green, as if catching a glimpse of his face will make it clear what I should tell his little sister. “I met Jameson at Wild Bluffs a few weeks ago. We’v—”
“You’re brYN!” she all but shrieks, drawing a number of stern looks from the people around us. She pulls me into a hug, her petite frame comically small against my height. “Oh my goodness! I was so sure you were a stalker, I didn’t even pay attention to what name you told me.”
I smile and hug her back awkwardly. “Yup. Not a stalker. But I wasn’t really sure what to do with you , Miss Superfan.”
Her green eyes twinkling, Jameson’s sister replies, “Oh, you’ll get used to the superfans. You think the women are going to be the awkward part, but they aren’t. It’s the men, and not the gay men, the straight men. They fawn over my brother like he’s the second coming or something. I’ve never known what to do with that level of adoration for a man who I know still wants to eat cereal for most meals.”
She nods to a guy in green who has been walking along with Jameo’s group the whole time. “That’s a man-crush for sure. I’d say there is a seventy-five percent chance Jameo is his favorite athlete, not just golfer.”
I watch the man in green as we all follow along with the golfers to hole fourteen. He does seem to be a superfan, but then again, I thought Lila was a superfan two minutes ago too.
“Wait.” I stop and look at her. “Why aren’t you in school? It’s Thursday.”
She rolls her eyes and then starts walking again. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Uhm, I’m playing hooky from the last day of a tech conference.”
“I’m playing hooky from the last day of classes this week.”
As it would be very hypocritical of me to say anything else about her presence, I opt to turn my attention back to the golf. When Jameson birdies the next hole, Lila starts her obnoxiously loud clapping again.
I grab at her hands. “Lila, what are you doing? Shut the fuck up,” I hiss.
But it’s too late. Jameson hears her and, as if he knows it is his sister, his eyes find hers, his smile slowly spreading across his face.
Lila tips her head toward me. “It’s my way of letting him know I’m here,” she says. Jameson follows her movement, and after a momentary look of confusion, his eyes widen in surprise and recognition. As he turns to walk toward the next hole, I see the pleased grin he tries to hide from me and the rest of the crowd.
***
“I’m supposed to be here!” I joke. “You’re the one who showed up unannounced in a completely different state!”
Lila and I are in the lobby of Jameson’s hotel, both of us sipping on our third Coors Light of the afternoon. We’ve been here for the last hour, waiting for Jameson to get done with all the post-round nonsense that he has to get through—the interviews, a call with his swing coach, changing, getting pounded by the hot water of his shower as he…
I jerk my head back to Lila—the sister of the guy I was just picturing taking a hot, steamy shower. Why did I not decide to share a hotel with him on this trip?
“What?” I ask, clearly having zoned out there for a minute.
Lila’s easygoing laugh is so much like Jameson’s that it’s a bit disconcerting at first.
“I said, my last class for the week ended early this morning. Then I basically sprinted through the entire airport to make my flight. I knew my parents weren’t able to make it out for the beginning of Jameo’s tournament, and I didn’t want him to feel like he was alone. If I had known you were going to be here…”
“You what? Wouldn’t have decided to come to Vegas for a weekend?”
She smirks. “Hell no. I would’ve skipped my class this morning so there would’ve been no doubt that I was going to make it.”
I laugh and take a drink of my beer.
Lila stares at me for a moment before saying, “He’s a good guy, you know.”
“Who? Jameo?”
“No, Prince Harry.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course Jameo.”
“Why am I not surprised that you are still talking about me,” his deep voice rumbles from behind me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as I turn toward him.
Lila jumps off her barstool and throws her arms around her brother, giving him a tight hug that he returns. His eyes, though, stay locked on mine, a promising smile glinting within them.
Unaware of the heated look passing between us, Lila answers Jameson’s original question. “Because you’re egotistical, so you always think people are talking about you, or at the very least thinking about you.”
Lila breaks their hug, settling back on her stool. I stand up, turning to give Jameson a quick hug, but he pulls me in deeper, kissing my forehead softly before squeezing me again.
A smile spreads across my face as I hold him tighter. “Not a bad round today, Jameson.”
His voice is soft as he says, “I thought you weren’t going to be able to make it until tomorrow.”
“I didn’t want to be a distraction for your first round back.”
Lila fakes a cough, breaking us out of our awkwardly long hug, and says, “So, where are you taking us for dinner tonight?”