“She’s always been the smart one between us. When I bring her to family parties, everyone adores her. Sometimes, it feels like they like her more than me.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It’s just how I feel. Like this one time,” I turn slightly to face him, “we were at a family dinner, and my aunt wouldn’t stop praising her. My aunt… she disapproves a lot about my life and how my mom raised me, and sometimes, I feel like those judgments seep into my mom too. It makes me wonder if, deep down, she wishes she had a daughter like Serena and that way, her own sister would get off her back.”
The words just keep flowing out at this point like the Niagara Falls: “She’s smarter than me, so it makes sense why maybe deep down, I feel insecure being compared to her. That’s why I loved cheer and did it for so long.”
He hums comprehensively. “Then why did you quit? The real reason.”
“My anxiety attacks got worse during the season. At first, they would come while I sat in my dorm after practice, but then they started happening at random times that I couldn’t control. So, I quit before the playoffs. Told everyone that I needed to focus on exams or something.”
Jared’s gaze relaxes as he listens, his expression reflecting the seriousness of my words. “It must have been hard to walk away from something you loved so much.”
I nod, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me, and my voice trembles just a bit. “It was. Cheerleading was my thing. Itwas the one thing I thought I could be good at, the one way to prove to my judgmental family that I’m not a failure. But the truth is, I never knew when my anxiety attacks would hit. They just… happened. I never had control over it.”
Somewhere between fighting to be seen and disappearing under the pressure, I lost myself. I thought I could outrun it all, but control doesn’t work that way.
Jared leans in slightly. “It’s okay to step back when you need to. It’s not a failure. You were just taking care of yourself. No one expects you to have it all figured out.” His eyes change, a hint of protectiveness flickering in them. “You’re doing your best, Alli. That’s enough.”
I force a grateful smile. “Thanks. I forget sometimes that it’s okay to put my mental health first.”
He gives a supportive nod, eyes serious but with a hint of mischief. “Taking care of yourself also means eating pizza with me and watching terrible TV. I’m your guy.”
I laugh, feeling the hostility in my shoulders ease. “You’re The Oneis not terrible. They’re finding love!”
“While dating three girls at once? This Dennis guy sounds like a tool.” Jared laughs, grabbing another slice of pizza. “You’re telling me”—he points to the TV where Meredith is giving a speech that she’s looking for something real and not fake—“she doesn’t recognize that he’s not in it for the real thing.”
“Love can be hard to find in the spotlight! It can be confusing, so it makes sense to re-establish what you want.”
Jared nods and bites off a piece of the slice. He gives me a coy grin. “So, if you were on a show like that, what would you look for?”
I smirk, pretending to think hard. “Definitely someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously. And someone who’d bring me pizza without asking… and maybe do puzzles with me.”
He laughs, nudging my shoulder. “Oh? Maybe I should sign up.”
“Oh, you’d be a hit,” I tease, leaning back on the couch. “All the girls would be fighting over you.”
Jared’s smile fades, and he looks at me with something unreadable in his eyes. “Nah, I’d probably just stick around for the company.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way my heart stutters. “You’d probably make it to the Commitment Cabana.”
“As long as I’m not the guy who’s only in it for the spotlight.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Oh, totally. You’d be bringing pizza and doing puzzles in the corner, way too humble for the spotlight.”
“Noted. Maybe I’ll bring my A-game then.”
I offer a light smile, lightening the mood. “I think you’ll make it through the first round, at least.”
He holds my gaze in suspense before finally breaking into a full smile. “Good to know.”
Chapter 15
Jared
Alli’s tense—I can tell by how her fingers drum against her knee—but I’m not sure if it’s because of her family or just because I’m tagging along.
“Everything okay?” I finally ask, keeping my tone chill, even though my pulse is anything but.
