Bully stepbrother

66. I like you, Madison

MADISON

It has been five days since the jumbotron kiss, but now that Asher and I have squashed things, I'm only focused on getting a hold of Bryan. It is obvious he has seen the video, and my bet is that it is before the second half of the game starts, because the Mavericks didn't only catch up in points, they completely destroy Bryan's team's seven-game unbeaten streak.

And who is the shooter who keeps missing his shots? The same person who brings me to watch him play so he can impress me, only for me to end up mashing lips with the guy I insist is just my friend.

Hearing how it sounds makes my ears hurt.

I've left him so many voicemails that I've now finally given up and accepted that I am the villain.

"Arghhhh!" I scream into Asher's soft, spacious bed.

I do not want to rub it in his face that he and Daniel are stuck on a single bed, but they really are nice for this.

"Are you in distress?" Asher calls from the living room, where the smell of breakfast is coming from.

"Worse. My life sucks," I grumble, and a second later there is a knock before the door opens.

Asher pops his head in, then pushes the door open farther and leans on the frame, holding a spatula.

"At some point, you need to loosen up and let life work itself out," he teases, and I roll my eyes.

"So easy for you to say. You have your homework and projects on point, your apartment, everything is set. No engineer can fix my situation right now," I complain, blowing my messy hair away from my face.

Asher only smiles at my tantrum.

"He has not responded, has he?" he asks gently, and I shake my head.

"It is eating at me." I rub my face, exhausted, and he sighs.

"Look, stop beating yourself up about it. I'm sure he is going to reach out when he is ready, and when that time comes, I will go and admit my honest part. He will understand it is my inebriated actions that cause all this drama," he tells me, and I groan. His voice rises so I hear him clearly. "In the meantime, I made breakfast. Pancakes with chocolate in between, just as your sad era has been demanding for five mornings now." He calls me out, and I do not care how many calories he is accusing me of inhaling. I get out of bed in a rush to go get pancake-drunk, but my phone vibrates on the nightstand with a new message.

From Bryan.

"Dear Lord," I blurt, snatching it up, hearing Asher sigh.

"Oh my God," I breathe as I read the rest. "He is waiting for me at Fresh Right Café." I look up at Asher and he throws his hands in the air.

Good thing I do not have an early class this Tuesday.

"See, it works out."

"Let us hope so, because it could also be an ambush," I say, thinking of the vague text that just says meet me along with a shared location.

"Right. I'm coming with you," Asher declares, terrified, and starts to turn away to get ready.

"No, it will only make it worse." I grab his arm to stop him. A sad look settles on his face. "I will be okay, I promise." I pat his chest reassuringly and peck his cute cheek before running to the bathroom for a shower, toothpaste, and everything else that will hide the fact that I have been at stage-four misery.

The location brings me to a French café, and parked out front is an actual red Ferrari. I pay my cab fare, send a quick prayer that this meeting goes smoothly, clutch my bag tighter in my arm, and head inside.