Chapter 4 Bryson
Bryson
I caught that look on Crash’s face when she got the text from my sister.
The way her eyebrows rose as if I’d squeezed her ticklish sides from behind and yelled, “Boo!” I also spotted how quickly she tucked her phone out of my sight.
She must not realize I got the message too.
I’m not sure what she’s so embarrassed about.
I think she looks great in those photos.
I know that little “approval” part my sister added is only for one of us.
I don’t care what my sister does with my name, image, and likeness.
It was a pain in the ass to get the contract to go through the clearinghouse, though.
I guess it raises flags when a business is paying the athlete a total sum of one dollar.
And even though I’m doing this for my sister, I still had to sign all sorts of waivers dismissing my right to sue the university, the team, her two-person company, my family, and I think maybe somebody’s great-aunt that I met once at a barbecue.
I jumped through the hoops, though, because Amelia and I are tight.
She’s the only person in my family who I know has zero ulterior motives.
Even my mom, who I idolized for most of my life, isn’t completely pure in her intentions.
She revels a bit in the fact that her kids prefer her to their insanely wealthy father.
It’s the only thing she really got in the divorce—us liking her better.
But Amelia? She’s sincere. She wasn’t going to ask me to be a part of her big app launch.
Hell, she probably wouldn’t have even told me about it if I hadn’t noticed a familiar name sticking out of the stack of papers sitting in her passenger seat when we went to dinner last week.
Jaden Johnson’s name hit my eyeballs like a laser beam straight from Superman.
We’ve crossed paths plenty of times over the last three years, especially when I was spending most of my time in the training room rehabbing my shoulder.
Not once did she utter an “I told you so.” But there were a few glances that did the job.
And now’s her big chance. Yet we’ve walked an entire block through campus in absolute silence.
May as well pick a fight.
I spin on my heels and match her speed as I walk backward in my squishy shoes, our eyes locked.
“So . . . on a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me?” I drop my hands into my pockets and try to act casual and not laugh as she blinks, seemingly stupefied by my question.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Her gaze locks straight ahead, so I pick up speed and put myself in her path, still walking backward.
“Bryson, just stop,” she grumbles, shifting to one side to move around me.
I lift my shoulders but keep my hands in my pockets as I sidestep to cut her off.
“What? I’m genuinely curious. You never say anything when we see each other. We even had an entire media day on the same sports panel last year, and I think you gave me a fist bump as a hello. Oh, and the signature eye roll. I got one of those too.”
She stops abruptly and tilts her head to the side, blinking twice.
“I don’t have a signature eye roll.”
I can’t help but snicker as she rolls her eyes.
“Ugh! It’s not my signature anything. It’s just something I do around you!”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she marches around my other side, her elbow bumping my arm. I rub the spot and laugh as I spin around to catch up.
“Come on. Pick a number. One through ten,” I prod.
“Ten.”
My brows rise into my hairline.
“Wow, that was fast. All the way to ten, huh?”
I get I was a dick our freshman year, but ten seems kind of harsh.
I’ve basically stayed out of her way ever since our meet-not-so-cute.
Not that I didn’t pay attention to her. I paid a lot of attention.
She’s been hard to miss. While I had a decent junior year and the team made the playoffs last season, Jaden’s been showing up on the cable sports shows with words like phenom tossed around.
The fact that she doesn’t have major NIL deals, or a full ride, is baffling.
“Is it because you’re not number one yet?” I blurt out.
Her head swivels, and I’m hit with a lightning-fast glare.
“Sore subject?” I quirk a brow. Sometimes my thoughts fall out of my mouth.
It’s something I’m working on controlling.
Ashton says it’s probably my ADHD, but I think it’s just a by-product of growing up in a household where you had to be blunt to be heard.
Feelings aren’t really regarded in the Moss family.
“The preseason rankings all have me at number one,” she says.
“Yeah, I know. But that’s still preseason. And I remember you were determined to be number one our freshman year, and I just wondered why—”
“You know what? This isn’t worth it.” She stops fast, pulls the credit card from her back pocket, and holds it out to me.
I exhale as my shoulders drop, my gaze flitting from the card I know she desperately needs up to her stone-cold eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squint.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t coming out the way I want it to. Please . . .” I nod toward the card and cinch my mouth on one side in a guilty expression.
Her blank stare is eventually interrupted by rapid blinking as she stuffs the card back in her wet back pocket. I’m making her nervous, I think. Or I’m infuriating her. It’s hard to tell.
“Can we just . . . not talk?” she huffs.
Infuriating it is.
I nod and draw my index finger across my closed lips.
My pulse picks up as we walk side by side again.
I’m anxious. Amelia really needs this to work, and I’m the reason she put Jaden on her list in the first place.
I pulled her résumé out of that pile of papers and told my sister Jaden was going to get a lot of attention this season.
It wasn’t a total lie. She is going to get a lot of buzz.
And she’s probably going to finally nail that number one spot.
But that’s not why I wanted my sister to pick her.
I wanted to make amends. But so far, I’m failing at it miserably.
It is my fault she’s drenched. And her check was ruined.
“Maybe not a ten,” Jaden utters.
I mash my lips for a moment, fighting the smirk. Eventually, I let my mouth stretch wide.
“Oh, thank God!” I blurt out.
A breathy laugh slips from her pink lips.
“I didn’t realize my hate scale meant so much to you,” she says with a chuckle.
“Oh, it doesn’t. I’m just glad you broke the no-talking rule first. That was driving me crazy.”
Her brow pinches as she stares at me with a puzzled look on her face before shaking her head with silent laughter and, yes, rolling her eyes.
“You’re strange,” she mutters.
I keep my gaze on her face as we walk, eventually pulling my lips into a tight smile. Strange. I’ll take that. It’s better than raging asshole.
We make it to the bursar’s office with plenty of time to spare, and I hang back in one of the oversize leather sofas by the bay of windows that look out on the forest preserve.
The billing specialist doesn’t flinch when Jaden hands over my father’s business card.
I didn’t think they would. Universities don’t really care where the money is coming from as long as they’re getting paid.
And seeing my dad’s name on a card is a lot like seeing a scholarship certificate.
He’s paid for a lot of things around this place, much to my chagrin.
I think when I went down with an injury freshman year, he felt like he needed to buy some goodwill to make sure my starting spot was held open.
Not that he didn’t bring up the option to transfer to Tech every time he had the chance.
Jaden’s shoulders relax when the billing specialist walks away to snag her receipt from the printer, and her backpack slides down her arm and onto the floor.
I get up and move toward her, picking it up while she finishes talking with the agent.
The irony that I’m now handing her a backpack doesn’t seem to be lost on either of us when she finally turns to face me.
Both our faces crack into barely contained smiles.
“I swear, I didn’t see any contraband,” I tease. Her smile falters a bit, though, so I probably should have kept my mouth shut.
I clear my throat and hand her bag to her. She stuffs the receipt inside, then hands me my dad’s gold card. I’m embarrassed by it, or maybe I’m embarrassed by him. Either way, I take it quickly and tuck it out of sight in my back pocket.
“Thank your sister for me. Or I guess thank your dad,” she says, meeting my gaze for a beat before nodding and turning to head the opposite direction.
I chew at the inside of my mouth for a second, trying to learn from our earlier conversation and not simply blurt out everything on my mind. I decide defending my sister is too important to let go, though, so before Jaden reaches the door, I jog toward her.
“Hey, wait up. I’ll walk with you,” I say, pushing the glass door open with my shoulder. She pauses for a second but eventually passes through.
I scratch at the back of my neck and mentally wrangle together the right way to broach the topic of what it’s like to be the progeny of Jacob Michael Moss.
“Look—” I start, reaching toward her shoulder but stopping short of touching her. She takes my cue and stops in the middle of the tree-lined walkway to hear me out.
“This app is my sister’s baby. She’s worked hard to create something and start a business of her own.
My dad gave her some seed money, but she’s paid most of that back.
So that’s why she flinched a bit at using his card to cover your pay for this month.
She doesn’t want to owe him any more favors than she has to.
She wants this to be completely hers. So, I hope you’ll give her a fair shake.
And if you really want me to back out, I will.
This thing is too important to Amelia for me to fuck up.
But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for coming at you all aggressive like that. I think I just got nervous.”
Jaden’s body shakes with a short burst of a laugh.
“I make you nervous,” she scoffs.
“Uh, yeah,” I say with a wry smile. “I mean, you also scare me a little. I feel you’ve been winding up to punch me in the teeth since our freshman year, so . . .”
“Oh, I definitely have.” She doesn’t smile at first, but after a second or two she cracks, and I sigh in relief.
“Phew! I like my teeth,” I say, tapping my fingertips against my lips. “Did you see the pictures Amelia sent?”
She still hasn’t responded to my offer of dropping out of this gig, so I pull out my phone and open the text from my sister, really looking at the one she tagged as her favorite.
Jaden looks amazing, her smile wide across her face, pushing her cheeks into round, freckled balls.
I know the exact moment Amelia snapped this one.
It was a second after I made Jaden laugh, a millisecond before I scooped her up and ruined her check in the fountain.
Possibly the only second of the day that she enjoyed my company.
“Pretty convincing, huh?”
I tilt my phone to Jaden, and her eyes drop to my screen. Her lips form the faintest smile, but I ignore my urge to push too hard, instead letting her take us in without my running commentary. Finally, her gaze flits to mine.
“You can tell your sister I agree. I like this one.”
“Yeah? So, you approve?” I want to be totally clear on this. Zero assumptions.
Jaden nods.
“And you don’t have to quit. It’s nice you’re doing this for your sister. I guess I can handle a few months of being your fake app date or whatever.” She blinks, and I think she’s forcibly trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes.
“Go on. I know you want to,” I say, mimicking the expression I’m sure she’s dying to make.
She gives in with an exaggerated roll of the eyes as she breathes out, “Thank you!”
I fire off a message to my sister, and she answers with a confetti emoji.
“I guess I’ll see you the next time Amelia texts, then?
” I don’t really have anywhere to be for the next few hours, but I think I’ve pushed my welcome with Jaden far enough for now, and I’m sure she’s anxious to get home or to practice or wherever so she can change out of her wet clothes.
I take a step or two backward while she does the same.
“Sounds like a plan. Oh, and hey . . . what’s the name of this app going to be anyway? I forgot to ask your sister. It just said app in the contract.”
Oh shit. I didn’t want to be the one telling her this.
“Uh . . . Score, I think. Like a play on sports. Since it’s for athletes.”
And for scoring. As in hooking up. She’s totally going to punch me.
Her mouth hangs open a hint, but I keep my grin in place, pretending there’s absolutely nothing suggestive behind the branding.
“A play on having sex, you mean,” she says.
Turns out, Jaden Johnson would be fine at my father’s dinner table. Bluntness like that cuts right to the point. I sigh and drop my chin to my chest as my hands sink back into my pockets.
“Yeah, I guess it works both ways.”
She huffs a laugh before spinning on her heels and walking away.
“We are not having sex, Bryson!” she shouts with a finger in the air.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” I holler in return.
The biggest lie I’ve ever told.