The Risk

“I’m going to face men like Mulder during my entire career. Losing my temper or storming out of his office won’t help me achieve my goals. If anything, it’ll ‘prove’ his own point in his misogynistic head: that women are too emotional, too weak, too ill equipped to survive in the sports arena.”

Brenna’s internal monologue captures The Devaluation of Women’s Expertise in Sports. Recognizing that Ed Mulder is typical of the inherent sexism within the profession, she also acknowledges the double bind she faces: Any emotional response is weaponized to confirm misogynistic stereotypes. The scare quotes around “prove” show Brenna’s ironic awareness of the rigged standard, while her calculated self-restraint illustrates the exhausting performance required to navigate professional spaces hostile to women.

“She unzips her jacket. What she’s wearing underneath makes everyone’s eyeballs pop out of their sockets.”

The short declarative sentence before Brenna’s revelation of her skimpy outfit creates a comic pause, mimicking the stunned silence in the bar. Structurally, this mirrors Brenna’s deliberate theatricality—the jacket is a curtain she controls. Her entrance into the Dime is staged as a performance, asserting agency over the male gaze rather than simply being subjected to it.

“‘See how easy that was?’ She shakes her head irritably. ‘The only reason I’m not crying over this McCarthy thing is because it was a temporary arrangement. But let this serve as a warning to you, Connelly. Stay out of my life. My love life, my sex life, my life in general. You have no right to force someone to break up with me. That’s just childish.’”

After proving her ability to distract Harvard’s players, Brenna’s rhetorical escalation—from “love life” to “sex life” to “life in general”—expands the dispute beyond her relationship with Josh into a defiant claim for personal sovereignty. By drawing this line, she reframes their conflict as a battle for autonomy, establishing the core tension that will drive their relationship forward.

“When warm fingertips suddenly touch my wrist, I jolt as if I’ve been electrocuted. I glance down to find Brenna toying with the beaded bracelet I’m wearing.”

The simile “as if I’ve been electrocuted” externalizes Jake’s suppressed attraction, attributing an involuntary, powerful force to Brenna’s accidental touch. This moment introduces a potent physical chemistry that contrasts with their verbal antagonism, suggesting that their rivalry is complicated by a much deeper, more primal connection that neither is ready to acknowledge. Brenna’s actions, “toying with” Jake’s symbolic lucky bracelet, foreshadow his later decision to lend it to her in a gesture of love and trust.

“A peculiar pang of disappointment tugs at my gut. I want her to stay. That’s so fucked up.”

This brief, raw internal monologue reveals Jake’s burgeoning feelings and his immediate rejection of them. The “pang of disappointment” is an unguarded emotional truth, while his crude self-censorship, “That’s so fucked up,” shows his internal conflict between a genuine desire for her company and his rigid, rivalry-defined worldview.

“The only time he engaged with me or seemed the slightest bit interested was during our brief discussion about Jake. Mulder’s hard-on for Connelly is almost comical—”

The crude idiom “hard-on” collapses professional and sexual registers, framing Mulder’s disinterest in Brenna and fixation with Jake as an erotic obsession rather than an objective judgment. The sentence breaks mid-thought, enacting the precise moment when Brenna conceives a plan to exploit the situation.

“My makeup is subtle and I feel naked without my lipstick, AKA, my armor. But I wanted to look classy tonight.”

Brenna’s metaphorical reference to her red lipstick as “armor” presents a cosmetic choice as a self-protective strategy. Forgoing her signature look for Mulder’s dinner signals a willingness to compromise her identity for professional validation, a transaction that proves fruitless. The warfare vocabulary frames the trappings of femininity as tactical equipment.

“‘Sorry, it’s just funny sometimes.’ Chuckling, he swirls the ice cubes in his glass. ‘You know, hearing hockey stats and breakdowns coming from a woman. It’s cute.’”

The word “cute” is a diminutive that reframes competence as a novelty, stripping Brenna’s demonstrated sports knowledge of professional weight. Mulder’s performative ease—chuckling and swirling his drink—signals amused dismissal, an insidious form of sexism that jeopardizes Brenna’s internship prospects.

“‘I bet she does,’ he drawls. He leers at my chest for several fist-inducing seconds before winking and clapping Jake on the shoulder.”

Mulder sexualizes Jake’s account of Brenna’s professional abilities, reframing her “talents” as physical rather than intellectual. His leer and physical gesture toward Jake—not Brenna—confirm that he only recognizes male-to-male exchanges. His actions dramatize the systemic exclusion of women in sports journalism, rendering Brenna’s expertise invisible through objectification.

“It feels like a betrayal of my friends, but at the same time, we’re not in middle school anymore. I’m not going to stop seeing somebody because my friends might throw a hissy fit.”

Brenna acknowledges the social stakes of the rivalry between Briar and Harvard but ultimately refuses to let them govern her decision to date Jake. Her internal logic captures the tension of Divided Loyalties Amid Competition, enacting a private maturation that the novel’s public rivalry framework has not yet accommodated.

“You wanted a real date. You got one. We hooked up a couple times, gave each other some orgasms. So let’s call it a successful fling and move on. What’s the point of keeping it up, anyway? It won’t go anywhere.”

Brenna reframes her developing relationship with Jake as a completed transaction, using pragmatic language to foreclose emotional intimacy. By reducing their encounters to a checklist of fulfilled obligations, she creates a defensive barrier. This preemptive dismissal illustrates The Fear of Emotional Vulnerability, as she chooses a clean break over potential heartbreak.

“How about you don’t tell me what I mean or don’t mean?”

Brenna’s sharp rebuke to Jake’s presumptuousness is a critical reassertion of her verbal autonomy. After a history of being controlled and a recent confrontation with her father, this line acts as a boundary. It rejects his attempt to interpret her feelings, claiming her own emotional narrative as impenetrable and hers alone.

“Everyone knew the conference finals would likely come down to Harvard and Briar, and a few weeks before this hugely important game, the daughter of the Briar coach is suddenly interested in you, and, I quote, ‘getting in your head.’ And now you’re so distracted, I bet you’re not giving your usual hundred and ten percent in practice because all you’re doing is obsessing over this girl. Do you get my drift, Jake?”

Hazel’s accusation articulates the novel’s central conflict between personal trust and team loyalty. By framing Brenna’s interest as a strategic “plan” to distract Jake before the finals, she weaponizes their budding romance. This moment injects external suspicion into the relationship, forcing Jake to question Brenna’s motives and his own judgment.

“‘I wanted to invite you and Jake to the Bruins game this Sunday.’ He beams at me, as if expecting me to clap my hands together in glee. ‘The network has a private box at TD Garden. Oh, my brother and sister-in-law will be there, too. Lindsay and Karen really enjoyed meeting you the other night. You ladies can catch up while us boys enjoy the game.’”

Mulder’s invitation exposes the casual, ingrained sexism that Brenna faces in her chosen field. After denying her an internship, he reduces her role to that of a social accessory, expected to socialize with the other women while the “boys enjoy the game.” This moment crystallizes the professional barriers she must overcome.

“I’ll tell you a secret, Brenna. Magnolia is the rule, not the exception. If you ever find yourself working here someday, be prepared to deal with morons on a daily basis. Or worse, sexist blowhards who will spend every minute of every day telling you that you don’t belong here because you have a vagina.”

Georgia Barnes frames Brenna’s individual rejection as systemic rather than personal, shifting the novel’s critique from one bad boss to an industry-wide pattern. The phrase “rule, not the exception” forecloses the consolation that Mulder is an anomaly. As a mentor figure, Georgia validates Brenna’s experience while refusing to soften the professional reality she faces.

“‘So why was I the first person you called after you got the bad news?’ 

I flick my gaze to his. ‘You don’t know that you’re the first person I called. Maybe nobody else picked up.’ 

‘Did you call anybody else?’ Jake asks politely. 

‘No,’ I admit, which forces me to look inward, because why did I call him?”

Jake’s direct questioning forces Brenna to confront an emotional truth she has been avoiding. Her admission that he was her first and only call after her professional rejection signals a significant shift. For a character who prides herself on self-reliance, this instinctive turn toward him reveals a deeper, burgeoning dependency and trust.

“‘I’m not kidding, Hottie. That storm looks deadly, and you know the roads are going to be terrible. Bad weather turns drivers into maniacs.’ My voice grows firm. ‘Wait it out at my place. Please.’”

Jake’s firm insistence that Brenna stay with him during the storm is a shift from a casual physical relationship to one of genuine care and protection. His use of “Please” softens the command, framing his concern as a heartfelt request rather than an order, demonstrating a protective instinct that deepens their connection.

“Always thought it was an act. And while I’m glad to know the level you’ll stoop to, for chrissake, Chad. Your daughter setting up a honey trap for Connelly? I get that you hate me, but come on, that move was beneath you.”

Coach Pedersen’s public accusation exposes and weaponizes Brenna’s private relationship with Jake, twisting it into a “honey trap” orchestrated by her father. This sordid claim erases Brenna’s agency and conveys the personal viciousness underlying the institutional rivalry between Briar and Harvard.

“But semen has nothing to do with the warm sensation ballooning in my chest. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before, and that’s how I know it’s real. It’s not lust—trust me, I know lust. This is something entirely new. I am definitely falling for this girl.”

This internal monologue is a turning point for Jake, who has formerly defined himself by his avoidance of emotional commitment. By consciously distinguishing his feelings for Brenna from “lust,” a sensation he knows well, he acknowledges the unprecedented nature of their connection. The private admission validates the relationship’s emotional depth.

“I study Jake’s patient expression, his supportive body language. Can I trust him? This story is embarrassing, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if people found out. I just don’t like the idea of being judged by someone whose opinion actually matters to me.”

Brenna’s internal deliberation before confiding in Jake reveals the cognitive labor that her self-protective armor requires. The conditional phrasing—“Can I trust him?”—frames vulnerability as a calculated risk rather than a natural impulse, intensified by her secret desire for his good opinion.

“You’re not weak, Brenna. Coach Jensen’s blind if he doesn’t see that. And calling your daughter a disappointment because she accidentally got pregnant? That’s a dick move. You don’t deserve that. And you definitely don’t deserve what that prick Eric did to you.”

Jake directly challenges Brenna’s deep-seated insecurities, reframing her father’s disapproval as a heartless response rather than a valid judgment of her character. This moment of external validation is important for Brenna, as it provides an alternative perspective on her past trauma and begins to dismantle the shame she has carried for years.

“‘You know how your aunt Sheryl is always saying you look exactly like your mother? Well, you do. You’re the spitting image of her.’ He groans. ‘And when I found you in the bathroom, you were the spitting image of her corpse.’”

This raw confession from Brenna’s father provides the novel’s most critical emotional reveal, reframing years of perceived disapproval as unresolved trauma. By linking Brenna’s near-death to the memory of his wife’s corpse, Chad exposes the loss and fear that drove them apart, finally allowing for genuine reconciliation and mutual understanding.

“I made a mistake. I made a mistake, and I knew it the moment she left my apartment. Ending it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I acted out of fear, not logic, and it backfired on me, because now my head is even further away from where it’s supposed to be.”

Jake’s internal monologue reveals that his decision to break up with Brenna was a catastrophic error driven by cowardice. The repetition of “I made a mistake” emphasizes his regret, while his admission that he acted from “fear, not logic” is a significant moment of self-awareness for a character typically defined by confidence and control.