Page 42 of Break Point

“I know you will. Haters be damned, right?” I smirk and take another bite of my cone.

Her lips hint at the sweetest, softest smile. There’s a sincerity to it too. It’s nice to see.

“I don’t care about the haters online so much anymore,” she adds. I’m not sure that’s true, but if I let her say it out loud, maybe she’ll start to believe it.

She slurps at the side of her dripping cone, and I chuckle and shake my head.

“Just imagine if you posted me doing this,” she jokes, taking a huge bite and smacking her lips through it as if that somehow makes her less appealing. The effect is the exact opposite.

“People would love it. Love you. And why not? You’re a beautiful girl.” I swallow at my own words and stuff the last bite of my cone in my mouth.

Jaden’s gaze is steady, and she holds her cone away from her body, hovering it between her knees as a bead of milky chocolate threatens to drop to the concrete.

“Why are you being so nice to me? Why now? And not . . . three years ago,” she asks.

I lean back and take on the full weight of her question along with a deep breath, then lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. Locking my hands in front of my body, I turn so my eyes zero in on nothing but hers.

“I was scared of you. You knew my secret, my weakness. And maybe I was ashamed a little, taking my friend’s pills,” I admit. My gaze is steadfast. It’s quiet for what feels like several seconds, and the pull to keep my eyes on hers is just as strong as the need to look away. My heart is pounding. “That didn’t mean I was blind.”

I let my confession sit in the cool air for a beat before eventually standing. Jaden does the same, and I pull a napkin from my pocket to wipe away the stickiness that seeped over her knuckles and onto her wrist.

“You ready?” I say, holding out my open palm as an offer to toss her uneaten cone. She threads her fingers through mine instead, and my lips do that buzzing thing again as I walk her back to my truck.

Chapter 16

Jaden

Taryn not only bought the Lucky Charms, but she also laid in a box of Frosted Mini-Wheats and Honey Nut Cheerios to make sure I had all the options. I had a bowl of each for dinner after yesterday’s practice, drowning myself in sugary milk after having to swallow the hard pill of practicing in the number two spot all afternoon.

Everyone noticed, and that’s the worst part. I think it’s what I dreaded most. Not coming to terms with Coach’s plan for me, but facing my teammates the next day and having them all just know. It’s not something we talk about. It’s that way with tennis. It’s such an individual sport, even when you’re part of a team. We’re all constantly vying to get ours, to own the court and move up. It was naive of me to assume I was impenetrable.

“Jaden, no way is there any hot water left. Come on!” Taryn knocks at our bathroom door. She’s right, the water has gotten cooler. And my fingers are definitely showing signs of being waterlogged.

“I’m getting out,” I grumble as I shut the water off.

It was hard to wake up today. I’ve never felt this tired before. Maybe it was the sugar-fueled dinner that put me into a coma, or perhaps it’s a symptom of my spiraling depression. Bryson was good at cheering me up, but the moment he dropped me off at my apartment, all the warm fuzzies and praise went away. It didn’t take long for my negative thoughts to swallow me up again.

I need to shake this off, and I know that shifting my perspective is step one. I need to see this all as a challenge. That’s what they’re called, after all—challenge matches. I’ll get another one after our tournament. And I’ll be ready.

I’m met with a blue Cordon football jersey and a glittery pom-pom the second I open the bathroom door. I swipe the ball of blue and silver foils and toss it over Taryn’s shoulder before setting my sights on the jersey.

“Hey, don’t kill me. I’m just the messenger. Amelia dropped this off for you while you were draining the Pacific for your shower.” She purses her lips and pushes the jersey into the towel knotted at my chest. “She’s really nice, by the way. Amelia? Nothing like her brother. Of course, I don’t know him the way you know him, so—”

“Ugh,” I grumble, snagging the jersey from her as I push past her and head to my room. I fling my door shut but not before my roommate steps through it and flops her body onto my unmade bed.

“I know I said I’d go to the game today, but do I have to be so . . .” I stretch the jersey out in front of me and scan the short last name stitched on the back—Moss.

“You do have to be so look-at-me-in-my-boyfriend’s-jersey. Because it’s adorable. And people want to see you in it. Plus, don’t you get a second check soon?” Taryn rolls to her side, propping her head in her palm with her elbow bent.

I grimace.

“Yeah,” I sigh. I thought Bryson and I were taking over making the posts, but I guess I owe Amelia public appearances, and it’s been a few days since our last post. I do get a second check soon. It will cover rent with plenty left over. I may finally see my checking account grow. I might even qualify for a savings account.

“At least it’s the blue one,” Taryn says, knowing how much I hate wearing the silver-toned school colors. Grays always make my hair look orange.

I grab a clean pair of black leggings from my drawer before shooing my friend out of my room so I can make this look work for me. The jersey feels a tad scratchy against my skin, so I slip on a thin, long-sleeve white tee underneath. My hair is in that awkward half-dry, half-wet state, so I weave it into a loose French braid that I’m sure my roommate will have to fix at some point. I step out of my room with my palms out to my sides and do a slow turn for Taryn’s approval.

“We’ll work with it. Maybe grab a hat too. Because . . . you know,” she says, swirling her finger in the direction of my head. My curls never obey the rules when there’s a breeze, and I can already hear the tree branch outside my window scratching against the glass.