Between the Lines

All fun and games

*Brianna*

I sat at my kitchen table, surrounded by a mess of clothes and travel essentials, feeling completely overwhelmed. It had been a few days since the awkward incident with Alex, and I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my head. Why did I kick him out? I still couldn't make sense of my reaction. Was it because I felt disrespected by his flirty texts, or was it just a case of me being half-asleep and overreacting? I hated not having a clear answer. Every time I tried to think of what to say to him, I felt more lost. Should I apologize? Pretend nothing happened? It was driving me mad.

I'd also seen Alex's sunrise photo on Instagram after he left, a casual post of his balcony with the caption, "It's good to be home." I was embarrassed by how early I actually saw that photo, but it had given me a strange sense of relief. The photo was a clear sign he hadn't gone to Clarissa's house, which was some consolation. I hadn't spoken to him since, and I had no idea what to expect.

Packing for Venice felt like an endless task. I kept trying to focus, but thoughts of the awkward encounter I might have with Alex today kept creeping in. What if he backed out of our deal? What if he was regretting it? I couldn't shake the nagging insecurity that maybe he'd pull out at the last minute after how I reacted to some girl's text.

But at least Alex had been lined up to start on the match, and I felt a good sense of satisfaction. My live report had somehow contributed to his career—at least, that's what I hoped. It felt bittersweet, especially given our unresolved awkwardness, but I was fulfilling my duties in this deal.

I'd carefully folded my dress for the rehearsal dinner, ran my fingers over the fabric, and packed the rest of my makeup. The dress was a simple yet elegant number, perfect for a rehearsal dinner. I had also thrown in a few options for accessories to match. My makeup was neatly arranged, ready for any touch-ups I might need.

As I zipped up my bag, I tried to push my worries aside. It was game day, and I needed to focus on that first, especially with Brogan breathing down my neck.

Brogan had reached out about the live report. His call had been one of the first after the incident with Alex. I had told him that I was just speaking the truth, and his disappointment was evident in his voice. "It was your choice," he had said curtly, leaving me feeling unsettled. I wished I had more time to prepare a response, but it seemed like there was no going back.

Just as I was getting up to go get ready, my phone rang. I was surprised to see it was my mom calling. We hadn't talked much since I moved to England. I answered, trying to sound casual.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?"

"Brianna, sweetie! I was just checking in. Are you still coming for the rehearsal dinner tonight?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, Mom. I'm the maid of honor. Of course, I'm coming."

She sounded a bit anxious. "I saw some of your reports on TV. Is everything okay? I saw what happened at the club. Are you sure you're alright?"

I quickly reassured her. "Mom, everything's fine. I'm okay. Not even a scratch."

"Brianna, never worry me again like that on live television," she said, half-exasperated, half-relieved. "Thank God for that Alex guy."

I couldn't help but nervously chuckle. "Yeah, Thank God. I'll try not to worry you, Mom. See you in Venice later."

"See you, darling," she replied warmly.

After hanging up, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I dialed Olivia's number, needing to vent.

"Olivia, I'm freaking out," I blurted as soon as she answered.