Page 79 of Break Point

“I’m serious, Bryson. I don’t want people to look at me and only see that.”

I swing my body around until I’m facing her, both of our legs folded, our knees touching.

“Look, I know it sounds cliché, what I’m saying. I’m aware. But you and I are in a really rare position thanks to Amelia’s app. You have a lot of power right now, and what if there’s a girl out there struggling with something, maybe even epilepsy, and she sees someone like you pop onto her feed and declare that it’s part of your identity, but not all of it? Imagine how you would have felt if the great Kathrine Maltese broke into your Saturday morning cartoons to tell you that she was called names too. And look at her now.”

She stares at me flatly, and I fear I’ve lost her with the Kathrine bit. Before I have a chance to chicken out, I hold out my palm and ask for her phone.

“I’ll go first.”

She blinks her eyes wider, tilting her head, but hands her device over, albeit reluctantly.

“I won’t talk about you. This will be all me being honest about my own shit. What do you say? I go, then you go?” I’m not sure if I’m rooting for her to accept or turn me down. She ekes out a soft “I’ll think about it,” though, so I decide that’s good enough. It’s time I reckon with all the reasons I haven’t been honest about abusing pills, and maybe that will help me understand why it’s so hard for her. Even if I wasn’t taking them to get high, I shouldn’t have been taking the pills in the first place. And the reason I haven’t talked about that part of my injury and recovery publicly is that I didn’t want people to look at me like I was weak. I didn’t want to be labeled as a druggie, instead of a nineteen-year-old who was afraid of looking like a failure after defying his overbearing father. Hell, I didn’t want people looking at me like I was either.

I scratch at the back of my neck as I hold her phone out, ready to stream, and I hit the live button before she can stop me.

“Bryson, wait! I didn’t mean now,” she says, but I stretch my other hand out to keep her at bay as I get to my feet and move toward the glow of the emergency light near the corner of the court. It casts a creepy orange hue over my face, but it’s obscure enough for people to not recognize where I am. I don’t want anyone rushing over here.

“Hey, everyone. I know this is Jaden’s account, but I wanted to say hi. So, uh . . . hi, I guess.” I wave as the audience begins to grow. It’s gone from a dozen viewers to forty in a matter of seconds. I’m starting to sweat. This feels a lot different when it’s just videos of me throwing the ball or being funny.

I look beyond my phone to Jaden as she stands a few feet in front of me with her hands clasped against her mouth. I’m not sure if she’s nervous or proud.

“So, I wanted to hop on here to talk about pressure. I know a lot of you have been following me and Jaden and our pretty awesome romance.” A breathy, shy laugh leaves my lips. “Wow, I’m blushing. I guess that’s what happens when you’re in love. And just for the record, I love Jaden Johnson. Like, so much!”

I hold one hand out from my body but quickly realize that doesn’t play well on a vertical phone video. I’m sure people get the point, though.

“Ha, anyway. So, Jaden and I have been talking about pressure a lot lately. We’re student athletes, and that’s a special class of anxiety right there for sure, but I don’t think you have to play football or tennis to feel unhealthy stress.”

I glance above the phone enough to meet Jaden’s gaze again. Her hands have dropped, and her mouth is curved into this precious smile. I swell with pride seeing her look at me that way. This is the kind of man I want to be.

“I was diagnosed with ADHD in junior high. I mean, my mom says she could have diagnosed me in preschool after the sixth time the teacher called her in to talk about my inability to just, how did she put it? Sit the hell down!” I chuckle nervously.

“I was a handful. Still am. And I have to work extra hard to focus. It’s not just classes either. Just ask my teammates. They’ll tell you about my crazy routine to memorize plays. Let’s just say I use rhymes like ‘blue forty-two’ and ‘red man fred’ for a reason.

“Anyway, it’s not just focus issues that I have to battle. I also have some high expectations, self-imposed but there. Always there. And when I hurt my shoulder freshman year, I made some pretty stupid choices. I ignored the physical warnings of pain at first. In fact, I took a lot of painkillers to numb it. And that worked for a while. And then, suddenly, it didn’t.”

Four hundred viewers. Shit. I’m doing this.

“Anyhow, I regret not facing reality sooner, and with a clear head. I was scared of failing, and then I didn’t want to talk about all the wrong decisions I made along the way because the only thing I was afraid of more than looking like a failure was looking like one who cheated. I know that taking pain pills isn’t cheating. Hell, I probably would have felt a lot better with some steroids, believe me.” I huff out a nervous laugh, wishing I had better self-editing on the go. Too late now, though.

“As I wind down my college football career, though, I see things differently. I have perspective. A lot of that is because of Jaden too. I won’t lie and say some of the recent things she’s going through haven’t changed me too. But that’s her story to tell, and only if she wants to. What I will say is she’s the bravest person I know. And when she looks at me, I don’t feel like a failure or a cheater or an idiot who got hurt being stupid and playing with a partially torn ligament. I see the man I want to be, who I almost am. I see potential. Hers. Mine. Maybe the world’s, a little bit. Anyhow, I swear I haven’t been drinking. In fact, I just finished working out with my girl, reminding her how strong she is. She kicked my ass.”

I pause, laughing, and Jaden laughs too. I’d spin the phone around and point the camera at her, but then people would know where we are for sure. I can’t have that. I’m sharing enough secrets for now. Plus, this thing just passed a thousand live viewers.

“Hey, I should give Jaden her phone back. But before I do, if y’all could do me a solid and drop some love for her in the comments, I sure would appreciate it. She could use some lifting up right now. Because, well, pressure. Y’all know what I’m sayin’? Okay. Take care.”

I end the live and immediately hand Jaden her phone back as if it’s a meteor on fire.

“Whoo!” I shout, high-stepping around the court in a giant circle before coming back to her.

“You okay there, cowboy? Lots of y’alls in that.” She sinks her phone into her pocket instead of looking through the comments I’m sure are pouring in. It’s fine. She’ll read them when she needs to. When she’s ready.

“First of all, that was a rush!” I tilt my head to the sky and howl. Jaden quickly covers my open mouth with her palm, though, and pulls me to her.

“You are really bad at sneaking around,” she whispers.

I settle my hands on her hips and begin to sway us, partly needing to work off my burst of energy, but also to dance with her to the music in my head.

“Second, I told you, little lady. I’m from Oklahoma. My cowboy is legit.” I play up the twang, an accent I haven’t really had since grade school.