Page 49 of Puck Your Feelings
"This is a bad idea," I say, but I don't move.
"Terrible idea," he agrees.
Neither of us steps back.
I'm hyperaware of every point of contact—my hands on his shoulders, his chest almost touching mine, the way hisbreath ghosts across my skin. My heart's doing something complicated and painful in my chest.
And I have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on right now.
His eyes search mine, looking for something. Permission, maybe. Or a reason to stop.
I don't give him either.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Then again. Then again.
Reality crashes back like a bucket of ice water. I step back quickly, pulling out my phone with shaking hands.
Five texts from my father, each one progressively more aggressive.
Dad:You need to call me. Now.
Dad:I'm not asking, Jayden.
Dad:This behavior is unacceptable.
Dad:You're embarrassing yourself and the family.
Dad:If you don't call me in the next hour, I'm coming there myself.
I show Becker the screen, my hand still not quite steady. "This is what I'm dealing with. Constantly. Every single day. He's relentless."
Becker reads the messages, his expression shifting from tense to something softer. "Then let's be equally relentless. Let's do the episode."
"Riley—"
"Listen." He pushes off the locker, standing at his full height. "You don't have to talk about everything. Just enough to take back control. Set your own narrative instead of letting him set it for you." He meets my eyes. "I'll help you. No more screw-ups, I promise."
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly.
"Why do you care so much?"
He's quiet for a moment, considering. "Because you're my teammate," he says finally. "And because I genuinely like you, even when you're being a stubborn ass."
A pause.
"And because I'm the one who caused this mess. Let me help fix it."
I study his face—the earnestness there. Finally, I give in. "Fine. But we script it first. Every single word."
"Every word." He holds up three fingers. "Scout's honor."
"Were you even a scout?"
His grin is sudden and bright, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Absolutely not. I got kicked out of day camp for teaching other kids how to fake injuries."
The laugh that escapes me is unexpected, startled out by the sheer absurdity. It's the first time I've laughed in twenty-four hours, and it feels like breaking the surface after being underwater too long.
"Of course you did."
