Brisket narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t quite like what I’ve said. Or maybe he just doesn’t like me already. Either way, he holds my gaze a second longer than necessary.
Thanks to everything I picked up from my painfully awkward semi-friendship with Braydon’s friends—formed after they caught me dancing yesterday, of all things, I’ve learned not to look away first. So I don’t.
“Why are you suddenly the leader?” he asks. “Isn’t Lucy capable?”
“Oh, she is,” I say evenly. “Very capable. But this was my suggestion, and she thought it made sense for me to represent the group.”
One of his eyebrows lifts. “And who did you suggest this to?”
Don’t lose it yet, Katy. This man is an asshole but you were warned. Breathe. Embrace it.
“Braydon Cooper,” I reply. “He spoke with Coach Turner and the
