Page 87 of Vicious Little Snakes
My father comes to stand, facing me, from the opposite side of the dark leather couch. He places his hands on the back, leaning forward. “We need to talk.”
Shit. He can’t know about the cops.Or maybe he does. The man has friends everywhere. It’s not as if it was a big deal, but I’m sure this will all circle back to fucking Harvard.
I point toward the door to indicate I’m going up to my room, saying, “Okay, but let me clean up first?”
He shakes his head. “No, Liam. Now,” he says while holding up a thick white envelope that’s been in his hand. One I didn’t even notice he was holding. I look at him, confused.
“When were you planning on telling me?”
What the fuck is he talking about? My eyes drop to the envelope, catching the one word that bottoms out my heart—Columbia. Holy shit. It’s my acceptance letter.
“Where did you get that?”
“From your room—the housekeeper left it for you.”
“It’s addressed to me.”
He says nothing. Jesus, he’s not even embarrassed by his behavior. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself.
“Columbia isn’t the plan, Liam. Your future is brighter than this. The connections you’ll make and the legacy you’ll continue at Harvard is more important than this hobby—”
He’s talking, but all I can think is—push, push, push. That’s all he ever fucking does. Be the best, do what I choose, toe the line. I can’t anymore—I’m too far underwater to be in this race. Caroline’s words fill my head, taunting me.
“Have you always been too chicken to be yourself?”… “Sooner or later, you need to be your own man.”
I swallow, knowing what I should say, but it feels like my body’s physically rejecting it as my honest thought tumbles out.
“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to apply to a school. Or did you want to call in a favor for Columbia too?”
Goddamn, the look on Tucker’s face makes me want to take it back, but I don’t. I keep my mouth shut, choosing to let what I said stay out there between us like a battle line.
“You don’t need any permission, but your attitude tells me that you’re still too immature to direct your own future. Which, in case I’ve been unclear, is more than just yours.” His voice rises, “Your last name dictates that.”
My jaw tenses as we stare at each other.
“I, of all people, know my responsibilities. But is it so hard to believe I could become successful in another arena?”
He laughs, frowning, “Yes.” His head shifts around as he waves an arm. “All of this is the product of a spoiled little prince—your mother’s influence, I’m sure. But it doesn’t amount to a legacy, Liam. They’re just pretty pictures from a boy. I’m trying to help you to become a man.”
Fuck you. I am my own man.It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get it to leave my lips, waving him off instead and starting toward the door.
“Liam. We aren’t done.”
I spin around, this time without the filter.
“What the fuck do you need me here for? Looks like you’ve got it all figured out, Tuck. I’m gonna go do some immature shit while you direct ship.”
I can’t even look at him. My chest is heaving as if I’ve run a mile as I walk down the hall. Taking the stairs two at a time, I make my way outside and shove my hands into my hoodie. And stand on the sidewalk in front of my house without a purpose other than to get away. It’s dark, lit only by streetlights and a few front windows. But I don’t care. I stand there, trying to catch my breath, looking down each way, not knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going.
What do I do? What the fuck do I do?I just keep looking back and forth, knowing that I’m not thinking about the direction I should walk but about my fucking life.
I pull my phone from my hoodie, swiping it open, finger hovered over Donovan’s name. I need to hear a voice I can trust, someone I know will understand. But her text reply comes through from the one I’d sent earlier.
Me:I need space.
Van:Then you’ll get it, dick.
I throw my arms out, punching the air as a growl turns into a yell, “Fuck.”
