Chapter 8 Bryson #2
I shake my head and try to form a cohesive thought as I take a deep breath.
I’m smirking. I feel it on my face. And I’m sure it’s irritating the shit out of her, but I’m only doing it because I can’t believe the situation I’m in.
All I wanted was to smooth things over with this girl, to make her not despise me, and maybe make up for my shitty behavior three years ago. Instead, I just keep doubling down.
“You know how I said my sister wants to do this on her own? Without our dad’s input?”
My gaze meets hers, and when I don’t get a reaction, except for the blank, impatient stare, I press on.
“Right, well, I meant it. My father can be a real asshole. He saw the charge on the card and assumed my sister was careless with it and needed rescuing. He canceled the payment and asked me to deliver the news to Amelia that she’d clearly been hacked and needs to be more careful with her business finances.
Rather than crush my sister, I went back to the financial aid office Saturday and had them move the charge to my card.
I guess my bank flagged it as suspicious, though, so yeah.
That’s pretty much how we got here. I’m sorry you got that notice.
I wanted to fix it before anyone found out.
I planned on taking care of it right after practice. ”
Jaden chews at the inside of her mouth as her eyes study me, nothing about her features hinting at understanding or forgiveness.
“So instead of telling your dad that you ruined the business check your sister issued correctly, you let him believe she’s inept. And then you tried to cover it all up.”
Well, shit.
“Uh, I mean . . .” I fumble my words as my gaze seems to refuse to hold steady on hers. Probably because I don’t really like the way she’s looking at me right now. A bit judgmental. A tad self-righteous. One hundred percent in the right.
“Just let me fix this. Please? Don’t call Amelia.
And don’t back out on her. She needs you.
I’m sure she’s already texted you about lunch today.
She’s counting on us showing up and doing that video.
” I sigh out my last vestiges of hope. I manage to bring my gaze up enough to catch Jaden’s mouth pull in tight on one side and her eyes squint.
I think she’s considering giving me a break. Again.
“After practice, you go straight to the financial aid office and fix this.” Her chin drops, and her pupils expand, like she’s got x-ray vision and is exploring my mind for more potholes.
I nod at her request.
“Yes.” I cross my chest with two swipes of my fingers for emphasis.
Jaden blinks a few times as she continues to stare at me. Eventually, she nods.
“Thank you,” I exhale, my shoulders dropping as I hold out a hand to shake hers.
She presses her palm into mine, her grip firm, skin soft. Fingers thin and long. Not quite delicate, because everything about her is strong. But feminine. It’s hard to believe this is the same hand that grips her racket like a sword and cuts through competition.
I force myself to let go about a half second before a few of my teammates enter the tunnel from the locker room.
I fall in behind them as they pass us, and I jog along with them toward the field.
After a few steps, though, I sense Jaden’s presence still close behind me.
I swear I hear her shoes slapping the concrete, so I crane my neck to glance over my shoulder.
My brow pinches when I spot her matching me step for step, and I turn to jog backward.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
Jaden gives me a quick bro nod. It’s almost comical.
“I’m going out there with you.”
I puff out a short laugh, but it quickly becomes clear she isn’t joking.
“Jaden.” I utter her name the way my father did mine when we were kids and neglected to clear our plates after dinner. I feel gross hearing the way that tone sounds on my tongue.
“Relax. I’ll find a spot in the stadium to wait until you’re done.” Her tone is so matter of fact that I almost question why I thought her following me was strange in the first place. But then we hit the field, and the expanse of the empty stadium comes into view. Everyone is going to see her.
“Jaden, it’s a closed practice,” I explain. Granted, people drop in to watch us on the field from time to time. I’m just not sure I want Jaden watching.
“Right, so just explain to your coach we have business to take care of when you’re done.”
I slow to a walk, and she does the same. She lifts her eyebrows and widens her eyes as she shakes her head.
I shake my head, a bit baffled, but also impressed by her persistence.
“Don’t you have class?” I know she’s a senior, too, but I still have to show up for things like anatomy labs and big lectures. She must have a similar course load.
“This afternoon, and it’s online.” She shrugs as I continue to stare. “What’s the issue?”
I chuckle, because there are all kinds of issues.
She’s hovering. My teammates are going to wonder why she’s hanging around.
Ashton will probably start in on me again before I have a chance to explain about the app and that Jaden and I are working together.
But mostly, it’s the fact that all these issues I seem to have are about me.
And they’re my fault. Jaden’s only issue is that her student status is in limbo. And that’s my fault too.
“Sit on the away side if you want to avoid the sun. It’s going to be a couple hours, so I hope you brought something to do.”
Suddenly I’m the one rolling my eyes as I turn to start my sprints up the forty rows of steps in the lower stadium bowl.
And because nothing about Jaden Johnson can ever be ignored, she elects to sit in the sun for everyone to see, stretching her long legs out over a first-row seat as she leans back in a second-row one.
She may be fooling everyone else out here into believing those brown eyes of hers are catching some z’s behind her sunglasses, but not me.
I know they’re wide open, watching my every move.
And just in case I try to fool myself that they’re not, Jaden reminds me every time I reach row one again on my way to twenty reps.
Just to make sure I’m not thinking about cheating.
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four.”