Page 72 of The Illicit Play
She flinches, my question obviously jolting her out of whatever reverie she’s stuck in. “What?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what your next move might be. Are you gonna try to go to a new college or…?”
“I have no idea.” She slumps back in the passenger seat, keeping her gaze out the window. “I’m so sick of studying. I just want a break from all that shit.”
“Maybe you should go traveling. Your parents could afford to help you get overseas, couldn’t they? You could explore the world, discover yourself.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes. “They’d love that. Can you imagine? The second they find out I’m not going to be graduating, they will hit the roof.” She scoffs. “They didn’t mind Wily dropping out to pursue football, but Little Miss Brainiac here has to ace everything.”
“Are you sure they really feel that way? What if you just talked to them and?—”
“No. They won’t understand where I’m coming from. They’ll be so ashamed of my choices and…” She shakes her head, her voice starting to wobble all over again.
Shit. I need to wrap this up before we pull into the driveway.
“Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it now. I’m just suggesting that when you do finally tell them… you have some future plans to counter what you’re saying. If you can approach it with a ‘this is what I want to do now’ type thing, it might soften the blow.”
Her lips twitch as she flashes me a smile of appreciation, but the look quickly falters.
“I wish I knew,” she quietly mumbles.
It’s hard not to keep checking on her as we close the distance to Football Frat. She’s really quiet, but the closer we get to the house, the stronger her posture becomes. She checks the visor mirror, swiping her fingers under her eyes and pinching her cheeks, like she’s putting on armor or something.
By the time I stop the car, her mask is fully in place, and she gives me a bright smile. “Thanks for coming to get me. Let me know how much I owe you.”
“Blake, I?—”
But she’s already out the door, walking around the back of the Jeep and heading up the stairs.
I take a minute to steel myself, trying to put my own game face on before walking into the house.
I missed my class with Tyrell and the one after that.
Checking my watch, I figure there’s no point trying to rush to the last half of my third class. I’ll just have lunch here, maybe do some studying in my room, then head to practice.
I close the front door and hear voices in the kitchen, so I wander that direction to make myself a sandwich or something. Actually, a veggie omelet would go over nicely. Think I’ll have that.
“I told you.” Blake laughs. “I needed to get away from your sorry ass. There’s only so much shithead I can take in a day.”
“You are such a little turd,” Wily teases her right back. “I’m fucking awesome to be around. Grady, tell her, man.”He points at me the second I walk into the room, and I force a grin.
“Yeah, you’re all right.”
“Fucking awesome. Those are the words you’re meaning right now.” He gives his sister a pointed look, and she just rolls her eyes.
“Whatever.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks down at him. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, his foot propped on a chair. “Do you need feeding?”
“Well, I was about to make myself something when you walked in and made me sit down.”
“Because you were about to fall over.” She flicks her arms up, brushing past me to get to the fridge.
“I was not,” Wily mumbles, then glances up and winks at me.
Big shit. He’s trying to get out of making food. The guy has always hated being in the kitchen. PB&Js are about the only thing he’s capable of. Sure, he’ll stand in here trying to look busy, but he’s an expert at being just useless enough to get out of doing anything.
I cross to the fridge and stand behind Blake. “I was gonna make myself an omelet. You want one?”
She glances over her shoulder, her lips twitching as she steps to the side. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
