Bully stepbrother

64. Jumbotron kiss

MADISON

I believe this arena is said to be the biggest NBA arena in Los Angeles. Dad used to talk about it when he watched basketball on TV, something that never interested Caden.

No Caden thoughts.
I shake the reflection from my head and keep taking in the venue as Asher and I are led to our front-row seats.

"I can't believe this," Asher gaped around.

"Yeah," I agree. The fact that Bryan planned this is still too fresh in my head to fully grasp.

I'm not used to being swept up and surprised with a grand gesture by a man, so it feels like a dream that I'm worthy of this.

"Here are your seats," the man shows us, and Asher immediately drops into his seat, laughing excitedly up at me. I smile at the contagious laughter.

"Mr. Tatum said to bring you to the backstage, if you will follow me," the man adds, distracting me from Asher's exaggerated, teasing eye-roll, as he mumbled "Oh, famous,"

"Yes, okay." I nod to the man. "I'll be back." I ruffle Asher's hair playfully before he can catch my hand to stop me.

The man leads the way. We turn corners and move through tunnels where everything sounds a hundred times calmer than the roaring crowd outside.
Soft music plays here, there are troops of security everywhere, and staff members in hurry. It's a real NBA experience, and with every step I take, my heart pounds harder with excitement.

I'm not in the outfit I wore to school. We drove back to Asher's apartment, washed up quickly, and changed before the glamorous flight. It took an hour plus, the two of us alone in the back, taking pictures and eating delicious, fancy food. What a surprisingly needed experience.

Back in this surreal present, the man leading me knocks on a door, then opens it and holds it for me, staying outside.

Okay.

"Thank you," I told him.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Madison?" I hear the familiar voice from inside. I peek in and see Bryan alone in a small, office-like room, in his real-life purple, gold, and black NBA uniform. The jersey alone would probably fall to my calves if I put it on.

He rises from where he's been leaning on the table as I slowly step in, and he's even taller than I remember him in regular clothes.

"Bryan... you wowed me." I let out a shaky chuckle, and he smiles, a little shy.

"I thought you'd need a break from Palo Alto, after the accident and all," he says when I stop a couple of feet from him, wringing my fingers nervously.

"What's better than getting to see you play?" I twist my lips, trying to cage the flush that creeps into my cheeks.

"Yeah, I thought that's the remedy you need," he jokes, and a laugh slips out of my throat.

He grins, watching me like I'm something to be admired. It makes me nervous.

"Thank you," I say sincerely when my laughter fades.

"There's still time. The coach won't need me for the next ten minutes. I can show you around," he offers, and I nod.

"Lead the way," I tell him. He gestures toward the door, and I walk out ahead of him.

Standing in line with him feels ridiculous and protective at once. I'd have to crane my neck to look up at him, but because that's considered a cute trope, we'll probably just get praised for it.