Page 5 of Break Point

“We’re going to lose!” Nat cries.

Hands rush to collect the parts, and one of the wooden wheels rolls along the length of the table, stopping in Jaden’s hand. She didn’t build anything, and frankly, the fact that she let her hurt ego get in the way of helping us pisses me off. I can’t tell if she’s smirking or not, but she’s staring at me and giving off definite “I told you so” vibes, so I hold out my palms and sit back in my seat.

“Please, tell us your amazing idea.”

She chews at her lips for a second, knocking the wooden piece against the table a few times before blinking her attention toward Ashton.

“We need to make a strong column. Put the pieces together in one long line, but make sure the connectors are spaced out evenly and that we don’t have any weak spots. Everyone grab five or six pieces, then pass them to me when you’re done.”

Not wanting to be a stubborn poor sport like she was, I gather a few of the toys and link them together. Ashton links my structure to his, and Logan and Nat connect theirs. We funnel our pieces to Jaden, who fashions them into one massive stick. It towers in the air when she stands it straight up, but there’s no way it’s not falling over.

“Twenty seconds!”

I roll my neck, trying to keep my inner competitive beast in check, because there’s no way we’re going to win. But then Jaden plunks the coffee can in the center of the table and plants our skinny tower inside, pulling off three of the pieces to brace the pillar inside the can, allowing it to tower nearly ten feet into the air.

“Time!”

Jaden and the rest of our team members flop back into their chairs as Ashton starts to clap and laugh out his nervous energy. I scan the room—only a few structures standing, not even one coming close to ours in height. We’re declared winners quickly, and one of the student assistants passes gift cards out to our table before the emcee dismisses everyone for the day. I slide my card into my pocket, forcing a toothy grin onto my face to match my friend’s excitement about winning a meaningless icebreaker game. I won’t let my mood kill his school spirit. In fact, I doubt that Jaden will say anything to anyone about the pills after she has time to think about it. She has nothing to gain. It still pisses me off that she knows, though, and I’m not quite sure why.

Someone brushes my arm as I scoop my backpack and dangle it at my side. I twist as I stand and am met with Jaden holding her gift card out for me to take.

I relax my jaw and let out the hot air I’ve been brewing before shaking my head.

“No, you keep it. You earned it. It was a good idea,” I say.

Jaden insists, though, taking my hand in hers and placing the card in my palm. Confused, I blink a few times and move my gaze from the card in my hand to her face. Her expression is heavy, her eyes set on mine with the intensity of a doctor giving me a concussion test.

“I have a feeling you’re going to need it.” She drops her chin and shifts her attention to my backpack for a beat, then meets my eyes one more time before leaving me alone with my sore shoulder and heavy conscience.

And just like that, I know why this girl pisses me off so much. The only other person who’s hit me with such a look of disappointment is my father.

Chapter 3

Jaden

Three Years Later

Five thousand dollars a month. An hour a week on social media. It’s a no-brainer, really. Especially when I’m looking at a tuition bill that will not be covered by a maxed-out credit card or fully tapped college loans.

My email dinged with this opportunity right before I negotiated another forty-eight hours with the university on my tuition payment. And I have approximately four hours left in that window to rush a cashier’s check to the finance office. By becoming the face of a new dating app for college athletes that’s launching on the West Coast this month, I can focus on finishing my senior year strong. I don’t want to be tied up with shifts at the coffee shop and working the ticket booth for the football games. I’m going pro as soon as my final match is done, and I plan to leave college as number one.

“Just to clarify, I get to approve all social media posts? Down to the hashtags?” My nitty-gritty question, probably my tenth such one, earns a heavy sigh from the lawyer next to me. The influencer turned app developer, however, remains patient. Or she’s a great actor. She has a stage name—Amelia Anne—and a look that’s more fashionista than tech nerd, but what do I know? I barely know how to work my banking app, not that there’s ever any money in it.

“Absolutely. Nothing gets posted without your consent. That language is right here.” Amelia reaches across the black marble conference table and flips to the next page, tapping her delicate pink fingernail on the third line. It’s basically verbatim what she just said, but I read the line again anyhow.

I’ve scanned the legalese about a dozen times, not really knowing what I’m looking at but watching for buzzwords. My parents have read it over, along with my Uncle Jerry, who “dabbles in the law.” He says it’s cut and dried. He’s probably right. I’m not sure what my hang-up is.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

I feel like a fraud.

I have absolutely zero skills in the dating department. Maybe that makes this more authentic. I am the target audience, after all, a college athlete so focused on her sport that she lacks the time for all the social niceties that come with college life.

Aka a romance pariah.

Or maybe I’m just a loser. Not on the court, of course, but in love. And friendships. And parties, and sororities, and anything that doesn’t involve me smashing a ball along the baseline. Sometimes I think the only reason my roommate Taryn has stuck with me is that she’s high most of the time. She’s lucky they dropped testing athletes for cannabis. She’d be habitually ineligible, or worse, cut from the team. And then I’d have no friends. So maybe I’m the one who’s lucky for the lax cannabis rules.

I touch the tip of the pen to the signature line, then pause and lift my head to meet Amelia’s eyes. There’s something familiar about them, a softness maybe. It set me at ease the moment we met, and her smile is just as disarming. Following my gut, I sign my name and push the paper to my right for her lawyer to do whatever lawyers do with this stuff. I’m given an envelope in return, and I immediately fish out the contents for the check lodged inside a folded copy of the contract.