Page 12 of Breakaway

“HTC is petitioning the Olympic Committee to sponsor the Winter Games and host qualifying events. It got me thinking about how big a platform that is and the millions of people it would reach. What if we combined forces with SnowPoke? Together we could not only create a diversified campaign but also showcase what underrepresented players can do, adding exhibition games and the skills trials like they have for Worlds and the Olympics. We could even do little bios so people could meet the person behind the player.”

My heart picked up speed; the magnitude of what he was suggesting would be enormous. The reach of the televised program itself would be monumental. Differing emotions swirled in me as I thought everything over. It would put me—and Reese—under a spotlight, letting the world into our lives to criticize and judge.

But wasn’t it already?

Dakota had done that, taking away the safety of the persona I’d cultivated for the public. This could be how I told my story without it being about clickbait or headlines. And unlike with the Society, Keaton and Fletcher would honor the real message we wanted to share. An idea sparked to life, and I knew it was the perfect solution to fix more than one problem.

“Okay. I’m in, and I have a great idea.”

I leaned forward and whispered excitedly, wanting to keep anyone else from overhearing. Keaton and Fletcher’s eyes widened with each word, a smirk growing on Fletcher’s face by the time I’d finished. I sat back and brushed off my hands, the feeling of a job well done settling into my body.

“And you’re sure he’ll agree to it?” Keaton asked, appearing a little skeptical with his brows lined, one corner of his smile tilted down.

“Oh, he’ll agree,” Fletcher answered for me.

The pizza arrived, cutting off our conversation as I inhaled it. Good pizza deserved to be devoured, in my opinion. When my tummy felt stuffed, I sat back, wiped my hands, and saw my perfect opportunity for revenge against Scar. She still hadn’t told me what she and Fletcher had bet on the other day, which killed me. FOMO was real.

“So, Keaton,” I started, my smile growing higher as he froze.

“Um, yeah?” he asked, looking between Fletcher and me.

I leaned my arms on the table, trying to ease him into a false sense of security. I needed him to spill all the details.

“How are things with Scar?”

The confident businessman who’d been sitting with us for the past hour vanished as his cheeks tinged pink, and he stumbled for his words.

“Great. Yeah, um, they’re great.”

“You said that twice,” I teased, watching as the color crept up his neck and ears. “You’re still standing, so she didn’t eat you alive as you feared.”

Keaton sputtered, grabbing his drink to take a sip.

“No. She didn’t.” He fidgeted, his eyes bouncing around everywhere but at our table.

“And you’re doing okay with the whole harem thing?” I asked, actually curious this time.

“Oh, yeah. It’s been good. I can’t be here all the time, and this way, Scar doesn’t get bored.”

I frowned, not liking he thought that way. Both for him and Scar.

“You know that’s not why she’s with you all, right? Scar wouldn’t commit to someone if she didn’t care about them. I know she has a promiscuous past, but it’s not because she gets bored with people quickly. You mean a lot to her, Keaton. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Immediately, he held up his hands in retreat mode.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Promise. I just meant she has someone to care for her when I can’t. I like that part. It’s made the four of us have to communicate a lot, and I have two new best friends. Guys who care about me, too.” Shrugging, he ducked his head, playing with the pizza I’d interrupted him from eating.

“That’s one of the perks you don’t realize when you consider stepping into that kind of arrangement,” Fletcher added, giving Keaton a bro nod.

Dammit. I’d meant to find some gossip but instead felt protective of them both. Feeling a bit tongue-tied now, I scrambled for something else to say.

“Yes, well, Cody’s a great guy, and Monty seems cool.”

At the mention of Monty’s name, Keaton’s cheeks heated more, and he nodded, clearing his throat.

“So, um, with Fletcher’s help, we’ve convinced the photographer and videographer to come here for a week. They’ll capture footage of your life and get some behind-the-scenes shots you’re comfortable with. It’s not going to be reality TV or anything. Cameras won’t be around 24/7, only times you pick. We’ll do the shoot next Saturday if you’re free. I’ll have the other two fly here, so it’s easier on Reese’s schedule.”

The knowledge that cameras wouldn’t be following us around without our knowledge eased my panic that had blossomed when he’d mentioned it.

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