Page 104 of The Breaking Point

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t get Brady to believe me when I said I wasn’t that sore. And even if I was, it didn’t mean I hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed having sex with him.

It was still strange to think that I was no longer a virgin. I’d waited so long to have sex that now that it’d finally happened, it didn’t seem real. After our shower together, I stood in the bathroom alone, gazing at my appearance.

I almost expected that I’d look different now. Ifeltdifferent. I felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders, in a way. Because now the unknown was no longer the unknown. Sex wasn’t this exciting—but terrifying—prospect.

It was messy, it was awkward, it was pleasurable, it was amazing. It was everything I’d expected and nothing I’d expected.

I smiled when I found a hickey on my breast. I didn’t even remember Brady doing that since I’d been so caught up in the entire experience.

Brady, though, kept giving me looks like he wanted to flog himself for causing me pain, even when everything we’d done had been consensual. When I made a face as I sat down to puton my shoes, he looked like he wanted to fling himself out the nearest window.

“We’re going to the store,” he said as he helped me up. “You’re not going to be in pain all day.”

My stomach grumbled. “Fine, but not before we get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Brady acquiesced, albeit grudgingly. I really wasn’tthatsore. It was a pleasant kind of soreness, like after a hard workout.

We went to a drugstore, where Brady bought a variety of Epsom salts along with some arnica and menthol creams. I had to restrain a laugh at how full his shopping basket was when he caught up with me in the makeup aisle.

“Brady, I’m not dying,” I protested. I held up some bandages. “Or bleeding, for that matter.”

“I got some things just in case.”

I bit my lip as we went to the register. The cashier didn’t seem at all fazed by the variety of items: not only the creams and bath salts but also the bandages, antibiotic ointments, and condoms and lube.

“Maybe I should’ve gotten a vibrator,” I joked as we got back into the car to go to lunch. “They had a decent selection for a drugstore.”

“The only thing you’re getting later is a nice hot bath,” replied Brady resolutely.

We went to a local burger joint where the burgers were famous for being huge. A few people recognized Brady, but fortunately, nobody bothered him too much. We got our food and sat down at a corner table. I sighed in delight when I took a sip of my chocolate milkshake.

What was more satisfying than amazing sex followed by greasy food? I couldn’t believe it’d taken me this long to experience the two things together.

While we were eating, I got a text from my mom. It was innocuous, asking me how I was doing, but it reminded me that reality was waiting to bite us in the ass.

“We probably need to tell my parents soon,” I said after we’d finished our lunch.

Brady sighed. “You’re probably right.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“Neither do you.”

I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t want to hide our relationship anymore, but I also hated the thought of upsetting my parents. Especially my dad. And what if our relationship affected Brady’s career? That thought alone made me feel sick to my stomach.

“Come on,” said Brady, “let’s get back to the hotel for your bath.”

As we left, I felt people watching us as we exited the restaurant. To my dismay, a few paparazzi were waiting outside. They snapped a few photos of us as we got into the car and drove off.

After my bath, I was more relaxed, but then my phone rang.

“Grace Dallas,” my dad roared the moment I answered. “Why the hell were you just seen in Vegas buying condoms with Brady fucking Carmichael?”

BRADY

“Carmichael!” Coach barked after we’d finished practice. “My office. Now.”

Mac shot me a look and raised his eyebrows. After returning to LA from Vegas, I hadn’t had a chance to update Mac on everything that’d happened. But Mac—and everybody else—had seen the pap photos of Grace and me.

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