Chapter 2 Hi again, meet...

Sloane's POV

The internet, it turned out, had a lot of negative feelings too about Ethan Andersen.

I discovered this the next morning in the way I discovered most things I hadn't gone looking for -- through Priya.

You literally do not stay uninformed about the latest celebrity gossip with a bestie like Priya.

She texted me seventeen times before 9 AM and had apparently not slept.

By the time I made coffee and made the mistake of opening my phone, my entire feed had been colonized by tiktok reposts she tagged me in.

I scrolled through news blogs and random people talking about how arrogant he is, the drama at the beanpot and how he's gonna lose his NHL draft prospect approximately four minutes before I felt my brain start to melt.

So I put the phone face-down on the counter.

If I'm being honest I genuinely didn't care.

But like, from what I've seen so far, he's an absolute jackass and deserves the backlash.

Either way, again, I didn't really care.

What I care about right now is the weather.

Outside, Boston was doing its February thing -- gray sky, and dirty snow along the curbs that had stopped being charming around January 15th because why the flip was it still snowing?

Ugh!

Shivering slightly, I wrapped both hands around my mug and looked at Priya's camera sitting on the kitchen table where I'd left it last night, lens-up so I didn't have to look at the crack.

I was going to have to tell her.

I was literally working on borrowed time by lying to her that I needed to edit the pictures.

Groaning, I looked at the camera once again and it looked right back at me.

"I know, Meera." I said, calling it by Pree's middle name.

---

A new camera retailed for eight hundred and forty dollars.

I knew this because I'd looked it up at 11 PM to know exactly how in trouble I was.

Eight hundred and forty dollars and I had just fifty dollars in my checking account.

Once you take out the groceries I'll be buying later today, that'll be about 90¢ left.

There was, however, one other option.

My older brother.

When we were younger, Keylan was my partner in crime and so now, he was also technically the only person on the planet who might give me outrageous money without asking too many questions.

I texted him at noon: Are you in your office?

He replied six minutes later with physically yes. mentally no. Do not come here.

Yeah, no will do.

Keylan's apartment -- which also functioned as his office and sometimes rage room -- was twenty minutes from campus by bus.

Yeah lucky me haha.

And when I arrived, he buzzed me in without asking who it was, which probably said something about his current mental state.

I found him at his desk with three monitors open, and a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. His eyes were sunken and he looked so tired.

But he was still handsome in spite of it.

No surprise there since Keylan had always been the brother who looked the hottest, which was insanely surprising that he'd ended up in sports management when he could have been a model or an actor.

"You look terrible," I said helpfully.

"Thanks for stating the obvious little chin." He gestured vaguely at the couch without looking up from the monitor. "Sit and don't touch anything."

I sat. "Is this about the Andersen thing?"

"What gave it away?"

"The whiteboard behind you."

He turned it around so the blank space was facing us. "I have it under control."

"Sure." I snorted, recalling the ANDERSEN SITUATION written at the top of the board in red marker and a spiderweb of bullet points underneath it.

Keylan finally turned around in his chair and looked at me properly. "Why are you here?"

"I came to see you because I miss you big bro." I smiled wide, showing even my gums. "Why else?"

"Sloane." He called warningly and I let out a sigh.

"Fine." I rolled my eyes. " I also potentially need some money."

He stared at me for a long moment and then he gruffed, "What do you want me to do for you?"

This was one of the things I genuinely loved about my brother.

He skipped the lectures and questions and went straight to logistics.

"I'm good at organizing things," I said, waving at his clutter. "You look like you need an assistant with these here so maybeeee we could reach a mutually beneficial arrangement."

I could see him considering this, his brows furrowing.

"I'm putting together a reality show," he said. "Its a PR move for Ethan Andersen. All the profile documents, participant bios and base script are all sitting in a folder and I haven't had time to touch it because I've spent seventy-two hours on the phone with journalists, sponsors, and one extremely unhelpful publicist."

"Aww poor thing," I said and he flipped me the bird.

As I stifled my giggles, he rubbed his face. "If you can get through the folder and have something coherent back to me by Thursday, I'll pay you for it."

"How much?"

He named an impressive number that I was sure he would never have if he wasn't so exhausted.

"Deal," I said, my lips pulling into a wide grin.

He turned back to his monitors. "The folder is on the shared drive so I'll just add you to it.” And Sloane—" He glanced back over his shoulder with a stern look"--Do NOT reorganize my actual filing system.

---

I spent the next three days living inside a shared chaotic drive folder called PROJECT FRESH START (WORKING TITLE).

It had three different versions of the participant brief, none of which agreed with each other.

The program script was only a first draft and the civilian participant profiles were a mix of finished bios, half-finished bios, and one that was just a name and a phone number.

I started working on the bios first, formatting everything into a single document that a human being could actually read.

It wasn't glamorous, but I was a biomedical science major.

I had a high tolerance for detailed organizational work.

By Wednesday night I had a draft back to Keylan that he responded to with a string of praises laced with insults.

He's my brother, of course he was very underhanded with his compliment.

Rolling my eyes behind my glasses, I just sent him a “middle finger emoji" but I smiled because I felt good...

Well, if not exactly good, then at least competent. The camera fund was taking shape. I had a plan.

First thing on Thursday morning, Keylan called me.

"The key civilian participant of the project pulled out."

That cleared the rest of sleep from my eyes and I sat up instantly, my heart thumping. "What?"

"She had signed the contract three weeks ago and passed the background check and confirmed availability." His voice had gone very flat, which with Keylan meant he was angrier than he was letting on. "And she randomly withdrew this morning, which is just three days before filming."

"Can she do that?"

"Apparently. The exit clause is..." He hissed through his teeth as I could literally see him in my mind's eye tugging roughly as his hair. "It doesn't matter, she's out."

Oh Shick. I couldn't even start to imagine how my brother would be freaking out now.

As my brain spiralled, my brother's voice suddenly came through the phone’s speaker. "The problem is... I don't think it's natural. Something made her leave, I don't know what, but she's citing personal reasons and not picking up.”