Page 16 of The Illicit Play
“Ooops.” Zoey giggles, taking the drink off her mother and loudly guzzling down her water.
I grin, sharing a quick look with Sienna, who gives me a comically pained frown.
“Drink nicely, lil’ bug.” She tucks one of Zoey’s wayward curls behind her ear.
Tyrell’s back to texting, and I start playing with the food on my plate—my appetite disappearing as knots crowd out my stomach. “Yeah, it’s fine. The work hasn’t been that challenging, and…”
“You’re a smart-ass.” Wily winks at me, then starts laughing when Satch tells him off for being rude. “But it’s true, baby.” He rests his hand on the back of her neck. “My sister here has always been the smartest girl in the room. Although… that title might be yours now.” He nuzzles her cheek, and I roll my eyes.
“So, you’re one of those annoying brainiacs, huh?” Carson smirks at me.
I can’t help a soft laugh. “Yep. That’s me.”
“She was valedictorian,” Wily murmurs between kisses.
“Stop.” Satch giggles, but she doesn’t really mean it.
Seriously, people! We’re trying to eat here!
Reaching under the table, I try to kick my brother, but I only give him a light tap, just in case I get the wrong leg.
He shoots a look at me, and I bulge my eyes, then mouth, “We’re in public.”
His eyebrows buckle into a frown, and he obviously can’t understand what I’m saying, so I just roll my eyes and go back to poking at my salad.
“Valedictorian is impressive. Well done.” Sienna grins at me.
I can’t help a soft scoff. “Didn’t really have much choice. You’ve got to be the best when you’re a Wilson. Wily dominated on the field, I dominated in the classroom, and…” My words trail off as I shake my head.
Wily won’t get it if I start ranting about Mom and Dad and the ridiculous pressure they always put on us. He never seemed to feel the same way because he loved football so much.
“Aw, come on. You love it.” Wily proves my point with his throwaway comment, and I grit my teeth, forcing a smile when he continues. “She’s the best because she works so damn hard and hates coming in second. Do you remember that time you got beaten by 1 percent and threw a massive hissy fit?”
I cringe, hating this story.
But I was fourteen and hormonal, and Haruki Sato was not allowed to beat me, dammit. That guy was an arrogant ass.
And I made sure he never beat me again.
I had no life while I was doing it, but I did manage to stand on that podium and give the graduation address, right?
Oh so fucking triumphant.
As I gazed down at my classmates, I didn’t feel the pride I should have. All I felt was loss.
Loss of my teenage years as I strove for something I didn’t even want.
Being the best was seriously not all it was cracked up to be.
But no one in my family seems to get that.
Clearing my throat, I squirm in my seat, needing this conversation to wrap up like five minutes ago.
“So…” I jab my fork into my last bite of chicken. “Where’s Grady?”
What the fuck? Why did you just ask that?
I don’t know!
