Page 4 of Break Point

I think this is her version of a mic drop.

I glance to Ashton in time to see his lips pucker just before he lets out a little “Ooooh, damn!” My friend has a bit of an insta-crush going on. I get it. Jaden’s very attractive, in a natural way, and her confidence is sexy. But she could also ruin us with what she knows. I don’t want my friend to stress out over what could be nothing, especially since he wasn’t keen on sharing his pills with me in the first place, but if she keeps sparring with me, I might have to tell him what she saw. Of course, then he’ll want me to stop taking his meds, and the pain will come back. Maybe this worry will be for nothing.

I buzz through her profile on my phone in my lap while Nat, the short blond next to Jaden, starts to talk about golf. Jaden’s a walk-on, and her résumé doesn’t line up with her swagger, listing only a few state tournaments and some quote from an old tennis pro I don’t recognize. I don’t really know much about her sport, but I do know how NIL money and roster scholarships work. An unknown tennis player is a tough sell for name, image, and likeness sponsorships. She’s not here because Cordon wants her. She’s here because it doesn’t cost the school a dime. She’s a practice dummy.

Logan Smith, the senior point guard for our basketball team, takes his turn, then Ashton begins to share next. I glance up to study Jaden’s reaction when he says his full name. Her expression is steady, maybe a slight twitch in her upper lip, but otherwise she seems unaffected. I guess there’s a chance she didn’t catch his name on the bottle. It happened fast.

I make it a point to look everyone but her in the eyes as I take my turn.

“Thanks to the media, I think most of the country knows who I am, but for the sake of this exercise . . . I’m Bryson Moss. I’m the quarterback for Storm Football. I’m from Nichols Hills, Oklahoma, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first one at this table to win a national championship.”

I hold out my hand for Ashton to slap, and he pulls my shoulder into his as our hands grasp. Most of the table laughs, but Jaden simply pushes her tongue into her cheek so hard it looks like she’s holding a jawbreaker hostage.

“You look like you don’t believe I can do it,” I challenge, nodding toward her as I lean into the table and knot my hands together. My knee is bouncing uncontrollably as my mind ping-pongs between the action up top and the pills by my feet that are keeping me on the field.

My pulse picks up as she tilts her head a hint, eyeing me sideways. On stage, the hyper grad assistant has taken up the mic again, doing her best to calm the chatty room. Before things get too quiet, Jaden leans forward, almost mocking—no, definitely mocking—my posture.

“You’re so sure you’re going to make it through the season. What if you get hurt? Football . . . it’s such a dangerous sport.”

My jaw tightens. In my periphery I can tell Ashton didn’t hear her, his attention now on the stage. I’m glad, because she just confirmed my fear. I’m going to have to loop him in, but I need to make sure he knows I have it handled. I need those pills if I’m going to make it through the season.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” I bite out. “But how will you handle never seeing the court, charity case?”

Her eyes twitch, and her nostrils flare, a tiny chink in her armor. My chest tightens when she swallows, guilt nudging its way into my head. I’m letting my paranoia rule, and I almost utter a quick apology before Jaden’s gaze narrows and she leans farther over the table. Nat, the blond next to her, is clearly invested in our conversation as she scoots in close too.

“Can you even throw the ball? Or are you just good at swiping Daddy’s credit card?” Jaden gets the last words in before a student assistant plunks a coffee can filled with TinkerToys in the middle of our table for the team-building activity we’re about to tackle. Our eyes are locked in a silent war through the instructions.

“Now, we know Storm athletes are the best at softball—” The emcee pauses while a few of the school’s softball players cheer, taking Jaden’s attention from me.

“And we know who’s the best football team in America!”

Ashton and I get to our feet and bump chests while the entire room erupts.

Jaden sinks back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest, and the thought that nobody’s breaking into applause over our women’s tennis team amuses me. I’m being petty, but I’ve accepted it.

“Now, let’s see how you do at working together, shall we? Your task is to construct the tallest structure you can. But you only have five minutes. And you must use every piece. You’re going to need to work together. Oh, and the best news? The winning team gets free passes for hour-long massages at the resort spa up the hill.”

The prize announcement garners a louder reaction than our football team got. I’m sure for a lot of athletes in here, the reward of having someone work out the massive muscle kinks from the work we do is a sweet motivator. But me? I just like to win.

A timer begins counting down on the projection screen as dozens of teams spill their wooden sticks and connectors onto their tables. Jaden reaches for our canister, but before she drags it away from the center, I hook a few of my fingers over the rim and hold it in place.

“What makes you think you’re leading our team?” I tilt my head slightly and hold her gaze, waiting as her eyes dim with challenge.

“I wasn’t assuming that at all. I’m just good at things like this and had an idea.” She tugs at the can, but I maintain control. Everyone else at our table sits back, letting us play tug-of-war alone.

“I’m sure we all have good ideas. And since this is a team project, maybe we should all have a say. I know you’re used to competing by yourself and all, so maybe let the team sports athletes get things started.”

Her head jerks back with a tiny flinch as a short, breathy laugh puffs from her lips. She pulls her hand away, and the instant release causes me to spill the sticks out onto the table.

“Come on, guys. We’re wasting time. Everyone, start building,” Ashton says.

I nod in agreement. Everyone gathers sticks and begins poking them into connectors. I trade a few pieces with Ashton to my left and Logan to my right until I’m able to construct a sturdy box that we can use as a base. Ashton hands me his structure, which isn’t as steady as mine, but I manage to connect it without our makeshift building collapsing.

“Next one!” I snap my fingers for whoever has something ready, then glance to my left, where Nat is trying to find a piece to hold her pyramid-type shape together. We all fumble, searching for the right fit, and end up forcing the remaining toys together just to make sure we’ve used every piece. With a minute to go, I stand up on my chair and connect the tangled structure to the base I built, then let go slowly while holding my breath.

I step to the floor, my hands out at my sides, my mouth frozen in a half smile while I soak up the cautious optimism. But then I blink, and in less than a second, our tower of sticks and wooden pegs tilts too far to the right, and the pieces break apart as they slam into the table.

“Fifty seconds!”