Page 6 of Gap Control

"You're trending," he said.

"Oh."

"Not only locally. TJ, you and Mason Ryker are trending nationally under a couple name we didn't even invent."

I sat down slowly, gravity claiming me. My couch creaked.

"I was trying to get her to leave me alone."

"You thought inventing a relationship with a rookie winger would make her ignore you?"

"He's not a rookie—it's just his first year with us."

"Okay, semantics, but I need to know something. Are you two actually dating?"

"No!"

Brady made a strangled noise. "We need to fix this. Today. Before the work day ends. A denial, a clarification, a lighthearted reel where you say, 'Ha ha, just kidding, I was delirious from endorphins and Gatorade.' I don't care—pick something."

I didn't answer right away.

Now that it was out there—now that the world had decided Mason and I were a thing—I couldn't stop thinking about the photo.

The hug.

How I'd looked at him.

How he'd looked back.

"TJ?" Brady's voice softened. "What's going on?"

I blinked hard and stood. "I don't know. I just… I thought it'd be funny. I guess now it's not. Now it's—people are making it real. And Mason hasn't even said anything. What if he hates me for this?"

A pause from Brady. "I think you need to talk to him."

I opened my mouth to argue, but someone knocked on my apartment door.

Not a polite knock. It was a solid one. Steady.

"Brady, I… uh… gotta go." I hung up before he could reply.

I walked to the door with my heart crawling into my throat.

Another knock.

Then, from the other side:

"TJ? It's Mason."

Another knock.

Softer this time. More patient.

"TJ? I know you're in there. Your car's out front."

I glanced around my apartment, wondering if there might be a way to disguise the disaster. Couch: unmade. Coffee table:Kung Pao container, chopsticks, soy sauce packets. Socks: I'd peeled them off yesterday, and one hung out from under a cushion while the other lay on top of the TV. Me: day-old jeans, hoodie that might've once been blue, and hair doing something indescribable.

I cracked the door.

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