Page 74 of Winning Brynn

"Yeah, well things change."

"What changed? Because you won't fucking tell me."

"I don't know, okay?" I half yell it, frustration clawing at me. "But something did. She has nightmares, did you know that? Real fucking crazy nightmares with, like, vegetables and fish bowls and shit. But they kind of make sense because they're always some kind of moral dilemma or a deep-rooted fear that just manifests itself in the weirdest of dreams. Like, the one about Indiana Jones, he'd lost his lasso, but if she helped him find it, then she wouldn't make her meeting with Elton John. And it sounds wild, I know, but it's all because she doesn't trust herself to make the right decisions. Her self-doubt, you know what I mean?"

Roman blinks. "I really, really don't."

"Okay, the dream about the fish bowl, then. It's because she feels trapped in her life somehow. By expectation from her job, or maybe even the limitations Alex puts on her. Or possibly, she feels trapped by the mask she wears every day. She doesn't want people to see who she really is, but for whatever reason, she seems comfortable enough with me to put it down sometimes. She comes to me when she has a nightmare now to comfort her. I've seen her cry—because I almost killed her cat, but still. And she told me about her upbringing. She doesn't tell anyone about that. It's deeper than just sex. It's—"

"Ah, fuck," Roman cuts me off.

"What?"

"You love her."

"No, I don't."

At least, I don't think I do. Not yet, anyway. But I'm heading in that direction, for sure. Not that I'll admit that to Roman.

"Let's be clear about something. I didn't understand a goddamn word of what you just said." He pauses to blow air into his cold hands. "But I've never heard you talk like this about a woman before, even if it was pure fucking nonsense."

I shrug because I don't know what to say to that. He's right. I've never talked about a woman like this before, because I've neverfeltthis way about a woman before. And maybe it's not love yet. But whatever it is, it is terrifying and, frankly—given the complication that is her overprotective big brother, among other things—highly inconvenient.

"You've gotta tell him." He says it simply and with more compassion than he's exhibited during the entire conversation. "You know that, right?"

"I know."

But I don't have to tell him right now, do I? Not when I'm still riding the high of finally sleeping with Brynn. Not when I can still feel the softness of her skin in my hands or taste the sweetness of her kiss on my tongue.

No. I don't have to tell him right now.

But soon.

Roman's brow furrows as he studies my expression, seemingly reading the thoughts displayed all over my face.

"Like, now, dude. Before things with her go any further."

"You're still not using her name."

"Plausible deniability, remember?"

I shake my head at his ridiculousness. "I'll tell him soon."

"Soon is a pretty ambiguous word. Look, I know you're scared, but maybe he'll go easier on you since you're in love with her."

"I'm not in love with her."

He laughs, catching the eye of our coach glaring daggers in our direction. "Sure, man. Whatever you say."

Text thread between Brynn and Isabella

Isabella:Two weeks, bitchface.

Brynn:Charming.

Isabella:I'm staying with you, right?

Brynn:Depends if you call me bitchface again.

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