Page 30 of Break Point

“Barely,” I croak, turning my face into the stream and filling my mouth with what is now lukewarm water.

The toilet flushes on the other side of the shower curtain, and I shake my head at Taryn’s lack of boundaries.

“Your phone is going nuts,” she says.

My brow pinches as I try to recall if I bothered to check the time before stumbling into the bathroom. I hope I’m not late!

“Is it my alarm? I set a few. Or are there texts from my finance group chat?” I lather my hair quickly and double up on conditioner to make getting the comb part go a little easier.

“It’s the Score app. Oh . . . wow. People are going crazy!”

I slam the water off as my pulse starts to hammer. Not again. I can’t do another day of being number one on everybody’s enemies list.

“Let me see!” I jut my hand toward my friend, covering myself with the shower curtain. Instead of handing me my phone, though, she tosses me a towel while her eyes continue scanning my phone screen.

“You worry about getting ready. I’ll summarize for you.” She holds up a finger to hush me before I even have a chance to protest.

I wrap the towel around my body and step out of the shower tub, lunging for my phone. Taryn backs out of the open bathroom door, though, so I relent and turn my attention to combing my hair.

“I don’t want to know if it’s bad.” I’d really prefer it if Taryn were in the dark about this corner of my life. I liked the fact that when we came home from practice yesterday afternoon, she was oblivious to everything. It meant I could pretend none of it happened.

“This one’s my favorite . . .” She steps back into the bathroom, and I stop rubbing in my facial moisturizer to look at her in the mirror. “Could these two be any cuter together? I mean, football player and tennis girl. It writes itself!”

I blink at Taryn in the mirror, and she flits her gaze up for a moment, already onto the next comment.

“And this girl, she says you two are her ultimate ship. She ships you!”

I crinkle my nose.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Taryn laughs with a wide-open mouth.

“Oh my God, Jade! Ships are the best! People ship you two! Relation-ship? Oh, wait, wait, wait . . . this one is good.” She holds up a finger as I turn around to face her. “I’m not sure who I’m crushing on more! Football boy or tennis girl! I love them both!”

I blink wildly, taking in this drastic change in tone from yesterday’s responses. Clearly, Bryson has done something.

“Oh, hey, you have a text message.”

I reach for my phone again, but Taryn pulls it into her neck as her eyes flash to mine. Her lips are puckered into a suspicious smile that is ruining the fragile comfort bubble she just got done building around me.

“It’s from Bryyyyyson!” She sings his name, and my pulse begins to jet. I snatch my phone, suddenly sweaty and hovering between excited and a new level of irritable. What is happening?

Bryson: We’re a hit, Crash!

“He’s still calling you Crash, huh?” Taryn’s chin tickles my bare shoulder as she reads over me.

“Gah! Can you just . . . Give me some space. I need to get dressed and go to class.” I push my friend out of the bathroom, then lock the door this time.

“I can read the comments on my own phone, you know. You can’t hide from me forever!” Her voice drifts away with an evil laugh that I quickly block out as I drop the seat on the toilet and sit down to scroll through the evidence myself.

The trolls are still there, but the number of positive comments far outweighs the snarky, mean ones. I don’t think Amelia is moderating users because the few nasty ones that show up really push the boundaries, plenty of them dropping f-bombs and one calling me the c-word. Yesterday, though, that was the rhetoric that dominated the conversation, and today, it feels like more people are rooting for me. Well, rooting for us.

My phone buzzes with a call from Bryson, and I leap to my feet, pacing in my towel around the tight bathroom space. I answer, keeping him off speaker because I’m almost certain Taryn didn’t go far.

“Hi.” I don’t know why my cheeks are warm. It’s not like I’m talking to him in person. Or like I care that he’s calling, or what he thinks about people “shipping” us.

“I knew that photo was gold. People love seeing me get my ass kicked.” His soft laughter feels genuinely modest, and without even thinking, I’m suddenly biting my thumbnail and swaying nervously. Stop it, Jaden!