Page 40 of Catching Feels

Amira laughs, eyes misty, and pulls me into a hug. “You are incredible.”

“Not bad for a kid who wasted his parents’ money on college, huh?” I hug her back.

After a minute, she and I separate, and she says, “Don’t be mad.”

“You never start a sentence with that.” I shake my head.

“Well, it was more about me and less about you.”

I motion for her to keep it coming.

“I sent a video of that hit toour parents.”

I shake my head. “And what I’m about to say is more about you than me. Don’t waste your time.”

“I just wish it could be what it once was.”

“They crossed a line and drew another. It can never be the same.”

“One last request?” She pinches her fingers together, showing me little.”

I nod.

“Could you let me send them a picture of your contract to show them you make much more than you would have had you?—”

“No.” I laugh as I shake my head.

“That’s easy enough to find on the internet,” Jillian says as she pushes three glasses of water forward.

I turn and look at her, eyes narrowed.

She shrugs. “I don’t know yours; I know Rome’s and Hudson’s. And no, I didn’t go looking.” She looks at Amira. “When people find out who your brother is, you’ll have more folks wanting to be your friends, who know more about him than you. It’s disgusting what lengths people will go to fuck with their life through you.” She looks down, wipes the bar with a rag, and then peers up at me, brown eyes narrowed. “If you let them.”

“I don’t have a pro player in the family tree, that I know of, anyway,” Cora says, holding up her glass of water, “but yeah, I’ll drink topeoplefuckig with your life.”

“But look at how strong it’s made you.” Amira smiles fondly at her. “And you’ve bounced back and are peopling again, yes?”

Cora nods.

Amira continues, “Next time you and Jillian go to a Broadway show, I better get an invite.”

“It was so good.” Cora smiles then looks past Amira to me. “No offense, but Broadway over bleachers.”

“What!” AJ gasps.

Cora shrugs. “I said what I said.”

“Broadway’s cool, but you’re wrong,” Blaze states.

Cora’s face immediately catches fire. Oh shit.

I throw the poor girl a life vest. “What did you see?”

“Last night, it was?—”

She’s cut off when a drink is spilled all over the bar and her.

“Shit, my bad,” Jillian says, making quick work of cleaning up her mess. “I’m so sorry, Cora.”

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