Page 139 of Finance Bros

It takes several tries for Ryan and me to warm up to the new, more formal set up, and Miguel is a perfectionist. We film at least a dozen versions on an intro, then switch to taking promotional still shots. Stephanie gets a quick photo shoot, too.

I’m glad I had a beer because it makes me less stiff. It takes Ryan a little longer to warm up, and I want to pour a shot of whiskey down his throat. But eventually, we’re laughing and giving each other the usual shit, and it’s time to film the actual content.

It’s interview style, where we ask each other questions about how we got into finance, where we went to school, what we feel like is different between school and the “real world,” and what we want to achieve with this webcast.

It goes smoothly. Neither Miguel nor Bailey interrupt. We take a quick break before we move into the finance portion—the winning poll topic from the Patreon: building wealth. It’s a broad topic on purpose, meant to open the door for more nuanced conversations down the line.

For another uninterrupted fifteen minutes, Ryan and I toss the conversation back and forth. He argues for a patient, measured approach, and I argue for calculated risks. We wrap up with an invitation to subscribe to the Patreon for the rest of the conversation. After another break, he and I really get into it, leaning in and gesturing. His passion for finance is showing, and I love it on him.

It’s easily the most substantive conversation I’ve had with Ryan about anything other than our weird relationship, and it’sfun. He’s incredibly smart, but I know more than I thought I did, too, and we each manage to score a few unarguable points.

Bailey is practically vibrating with excitement as we interrupt each other and start showing off a hint of our actual relationship, which is naturally argumentative and teasing. Granted, it took us a while to get here—trying to forget the cameras and focus on each other—but once we do, the chemistry between us is undeniable, and I get why Bailey’s happy because so am I.

I don’t have any idea how much money we’ll make from this, or if it’ll take off in time to win the challenge, but I’m confident it’s something Ryan and I can do—and well.

Finally, he wraps it up, saying, “Okay, okay, enough. Don’t make me come over there and wrestle you. You and I both know who’ll win.”

Thank God for makeup because I’m definitely blushing when I tell the camera we’ll be back Wednesday with another episode and invite them to discuss and ask questions in the Discord.

Miguel calls it a wrap, and Bailey throws herself on top of Ryan, giving him a hug.

He laughs and rolls her over to sit on his lap. She ruffles his hair and fuckinggiggles. “That was amazing! Miguel, what did you think?”

“I think Piper’s head might explode, and I’ll sell tickets to anyone who wants to see it.”

Ryan glances my way and grins. “Nice job.”

Smitten as fuck, I bite my lip and smile back at him. “You too.” It’s a crime that I can’t remove Bailey from his lap and take my place there. Ineedto kiss his face and tell him how fucking proud I am of us. The first day I saw him sitting at the conference table, I thought I was in for the worst summer of my life.

Not like it’s been easy, but this moment right here makes it all worth it. I do stand, and Miguel offers me another drink. I nod and start following him to the kitchen.

Everything goes to shit in a heartbeat. It starts with Stephanie. I notice she’s at my feet, in danger of being stepped on. To avoid the inevitable squish, I shift my weight and wind up off balance. Over-correcting in the opposite direction, I lose my footing entirely. Vaguely, I register falling.

The next thing I notice is a white hot pain in my left wrist and Ryan’s hands on my face.

“Baby, did you hit your head?”

Bailey’s laughing. Apologizing for laughing, but laughing. Heartily.

“What?” I ask.

Ryan is crouched beside me as I clutch my arm to my chest. Someone shoves a pillow under my head, and Ryan snaps—“Should you be moving him?”

“I don’t think hisneckis broken.” That’s Miguel.

Bailey asks through her laughter, “Is your hand okay? You’re holding it.”

I understand what’s happening here, and there’s definitely an injury, but the pillow is a nice touch, so I look at Ryan and tell him I’m okay.

His hand explores my head, feeling for lumps or cuts. I closemy eyes as his fingers run through my hair—a welcome sensation to counter the pain in my wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Bailey’s saying. “I laugh when people fall. I can’t help it. I don’t actually think this is funny.” She snorts and giggles again, so it’s hard to take her word for it.

“Can you sit up?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah,” I say, like this is a totally ridiculous question.

With one hand under my neck and the other beneath my shoulder blade, he helps me sit. “It’s my wrist,” I tell him like we’re having a private conversation.

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