Page 46 of The Wrong Move

I breathe out a long, slow breath. I shouldn’t be worried since we’re not together-together, more getting to know each other again. But shit, I had ahands-off-my-manmoment, and I have no right to think of Byron as mine.

“Hey, man.” Mason stands and shakes his hand. “What was that about?”

He kisses Paige on the cheek. “Jessica being Jessica.”

“She can come on fast and be overfriendly,” Paige says. “But I’m sure she is harmless.”

“I disagree.” Byron rounds the table to me. From behind, he wraps both hands around my shoulders and leans his chin on my head. His affection is the answer to my misplaced insecurities. I squeeze his arm that lingers around my chest, then he kisses me before taking a seat.

“I think Jessica is lonely. She likes you, so it’s not a bad thing.”

“Gigi has a point,” Mason quips. “Remember when she tried to ruin you at school?”

“No, you have it wrong,” Paige interjects. “She liked him and was trying to garnish attention.”

“Likes me, hates me, I’m doomed either way,” Byron moans.

“All the attention on the poor NBA star.” Mason pokes fun at him. “Where’s a decent violinist when you need one?”

“What? You think my life is easy?”

Mason huffs out a laugh. “No one’s life is easy, but you have it easier than others with money being thrown at you,” he ribs.

“Millions. Kazillions,” Paige adds and laughs.

Byron shifts in his seat and straightens his back. “All right then. Let’s start with ever since I was a teenager, I’ve had to train every day to the point where sometimes I’d lie in bed and wish the pain away. I can’t eat what I like because I need to stay in shape and maintain peak fitness, so I’ve been on a diet for the last ten years.”

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t do that.” Paige shakes her head. “If I stick to a diet for six months, I celebrate as though I’ve won the lottery.”

I giggle at Paige. “And I’ve just eaten my way around Italy, indulging in pizza and wine for the past sixyears.”

Mason pulls a face. “Still not good enough to earn any sympathy.”

“Game on,” Byron begins. “I’ve never had a girlfriend since Gigi left me.”

I widen my eyes at him. Paige giggles.

Mason coughs. “That by right, was all your doing.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile and like how we are making light humor about this. It’s airing dirty laundry.

“I can’t have a normal life without a fan wanting to get in my face with tips about how to win the game, improve my shoot, or why am I such an idiot, every time I go out.” I look over his shoulder, and his security guard is now only feet away while stopping three girls from getting closer to us. Not once does Byron turn to his security guard. He keeps talking as though it happens all the time, and he simply ignores it.

Mason’s gaze lifts and watches the girls for a few moments. They request a selfie. I look over my shoulder and flinch at their raised cells, even if it means getting a photo of the back of his head.

“Being popular is hard. Very hard. All those girls…” Mason shakes his head. “What do you do?” he asks incredulously.

Oh shit.I stifle a laugh.

“You, my friend, do not have one empathetic bone in your body.”

Mason pops a shoulder.

“Take my place of work. On the court, I am abused with every cuss word imaginable, screamed at to work harder, only with more colorful adjectives, or if they’re being nice, they say to pull my finger out and stop being a crybaby when I’m knocked to the floor. After falling into the crowd, I’ve had popcorn poured on my head, and these arefans. Someone spat on me when I walked down the tunnel to the locker room on an away game. Not a fan.”

“Eww,” I moan.

We all stare at Byron. “I could go on.” He adjusts his shirt collar as though it screens him from the scrutinizing eyes waiting for him to make a mistake. “The fame is not as glamorous as you might think.”

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