“Hey, Robbie,” she says. “Ready to go?” I can’t shake the feeling that it sounds like she is talking to her little brother.

Before I can answer, her gaze flickers back to him. She blushes and bites her lip as she turns away.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “I think I might walk home though. Clear my head.”

“Is everything okay?” She is really looking at me now. Giving me her full attention.

“Yeah.” I wave a hand, brushing off her concern. I gesture over my shoulder with my thumb. Back toward the building and the meeting a few minutes earlier. “That was just wow.” I force a smile and try to add some cheer to my voice, to make it seem like the drowning look in my eyes is just a sign of being overwhelmed and unable to process how well our careers are going, and not because my heart is tearing apart.

Part Three

Game Changer

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sara

“And then he just...kissed me.”

“Ahhhh!” Yaz squeals and claps her hands. “I love it.” She pretends to faint, falling backward onto my couch. “This is so dreamy.”

I laugh. “Yeah, it was...” I try to think, but I can’t get this smile off my face, and it makes it hard to produce any sounds that aren’t giggles. “It was pretty cool.”

“Pretty cool?” She sits back up. “Are you kidding me? You’re dating a billionaire.”

“He’s not a billionaire.”

“Yeah.” She raises her eyebrows. “But his dad is.”

“That.” I wave a hand dismissively. “That stuff doesn’t matter.” I also want to say that Yaz’s parents are probably getting close to that B word, given that they started the second most popular social media app in Brazil. But I learned that from Google, not from her, so I don’t wanna bring it up.

“Of course, of course.” She nods. “That’s not the only reason you like him, but it’s a pretty damn nice perk.”

“Dude!”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that in a world full of guys asking you to come over and smoke before watching an illegally downloaded movie in a dorm room, I’d die to go on some dates out of The Bachelor.”

I roll my eyes. “Speaking of, aren’t we supposed to be watching that?” I reach for the remote. Our usual Friday night reality TV catch-up and wine-drinking sesh has been completely derailed by Yaz demanding all the details on Braden-gate.

“Yeah, whatever—this is more interesting anyway.”

I shake my head as I scroll through the DVR. “It’s not even like that, okay?”

“All right.” She uncrosses her sweatpanted and fuzzy-socked legs and stands up. “Then tell me what it is like.” She walks in front of me, and I lean around her to see the screen. “But let me get the wine first.”