Page 61 of Break Point

Taryn steps back and lowers her chin.

“You’re agreeing with me.” Her gaze narrows as her lip twitches up on one side. “Oh my . . . my girl’s in love.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” I say, my cheeks lighting on fire mid-sentence.

I spin on my ass to face my locker and pull out my wristbands. Taryn doesn’t let me avoid her stare for long, though, hopping over the bench and shutting my locker door only to lean against it with her arms folded over her chest. I let my head fall to one side as I exhale, but the longer she challenges me with her eyes, the more my resolve breaks down, until finally I bury my face in my hands.

“Oh God, I am. I really like him, Taryn. I like him so much,” I confess, spreading my fingers on one hand to peek at my friend.

“You don’t like him, Jaden. You love that boy. You’re in love with Bryson Moss. Jaden and Bryson, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—”

I throw one of my wristbands at her, and she swats it away.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I want this for you, J. You deserve it. And, well, you know I called it.”

She retrieves my wristband from across the locker room and tosses it to me. I slip it on and purse my lips at her gloating.

“You didn’t call anything. You just like to tease me. Now you’re going to have to find something else.” I roll my eyes and get to my feet, adjusting my wristbands again. Everything on my body feels tight today, like my veins are swollen with too much blood. I think maybe I’m overhydrated, if that’s a thing. I’m too ready.

“Seriously. I love seeing you happy, Jaden. It makes me happy.”

I lift my gaze to meet hers at hearing her words. I give her a soft smile that turns into me sucking in my bottom lip.

“I love that stupid boy,” I say out loud.

She rears back with a hard laugh, then throws her arms around me for one of her lanky-armed bear hugs. She kisses my cheek, making a loud puckering sound, then swats my ass as I head toward the door, ready for the courts.

“Go get ’em, partner.”

I brandish my racket as if it’s a sword, then slip through the locker door. My pulse starts to pick up with my steps, so I pause at the bleachers by center court and shake out my arms while I take a deep breath.

“Excuse me, but are you that famous tennis player, Jaden Johnson?” Bryson’s voice pulls my gaze straight up, where I find his head hanging over the fencing that lines the bleachers about ten rows up.

“What are you doing here?” I squint as I look up at him, his hair tips sort of glittering in front of the sun.

“Early practice today, and I figured you could use a fan in the stands.”

My lips pulse until I give in and stretch out my smile.

“Thanks,” I croak. My throat isn’t dry because I’m thirsty. It’s dry because I just said I love this man. Granted, not to his face. But I want to. And that’s super scary but exciting all at once.

“Now, go get this warm-up out of the way so you can face me next. You still owe me a match.” His smug, crooked smirk is so on brand for the guy I figured him to be before really knowing him. He’s not that guy at all. He’s so much better.

“You better bring your A game,” I say through a soft chuckle, reaching up as tall as I can until my fingertips hook on his.

“You got this,” he says with a wink and a nod. My hand slips away, but I feel destined now. I do got this. It’s mine. Number one. Meant to be.

Bryson tries his best to turn my cheeks pink, letting out a good finger-whistle when I enter the court. He’s literally the only fan watching, and I’m glad he tucked himself up high and in the corner, out of sight. I love him being here, but he’s pretty distracting right now. He’s already the only thing on my damn mind.

I shake my head and try to erase his presence, turning my focus to Adrianne, who has kept my spot warm for long enough.

“All right, ladies. Remember, you’re teammates first. The point is to push each other, not tear each other down.” I nod to our coach’s instructions, and Adrianne does the same.

We both shake hands, then head to opposite sides of the court to volley for warm-ups. I jog a few steps once I reach the baseline, the tingling I tried to correct by retying my laces suddenly back in my right foot. My hands start to feel numb, too, so I flex them one at a time, my fingers stretching out like starbursts as I jog in place on the center of the baseline.

I shake my head a little, a strange tickle creeping up the sides of my neck and stuffing my ears. The typical music Coach plays during practice is blaring from the speakers, but everything sounds like it’s reaching me through a tin can.

“Jaden, are you okay?” Adrianne says, moving slowly toward the net.