Page 126 of Lilah
It broke my heart. I wanted the experience. There was always the chance that college would've been better for me.
But I guess everything happens for a reason.
"Jake was very good at sports," I explain further, figuring he didn't know what Jake was successful at.
"Azzy. Try it," Jake encourages. I huff and shoot the basketball up into the hoop or basket or net or whatever the heck they call it.
It bounces off the top and hits me square in the face. I groan and dramatically fall onto the floor. He lets out a bark of laughter.
"Is my nose still there?" I question out and he pulls me up.
"Try again."
I try a good twenty more times. It doesn't work.
"It's just not your sport," he shrugs. I don't think any sport is my sport.
"Softball?" he questions, tossing Aaron's sister's softball at me. It hits me in the boob and then proceeds to fall onto my toe. I dramatically cry out.
"That's not even soft," I whine, ignoring his chuckles.
"Soccer?" he asks.
"You honestly think I can run that much?" I respond. He thinks about it before shaking his head.
"Tennis?" he asks.
"That's a scary sport," I chide, "do you hear all the grunts and stuff they do on tv?"
"Sports aren't for you," he decides and I agree with him. I really have no desire.
"That's okay," he smiles.
"You know your dad is fucked up, right?" he questions seriously. I look up at him.
"I know," I admit softly.
"I'm going to get in trouble for spending the night here," I tell him honestly and a glare settles on his face.
"It's okay," I dismiss it, waving my hand in the air.
"Why don't I have a talk with your dad?" he crosses his arms and my eyes widen a little bit. I shake my head.
"Oh no, that'd only make things a lot worse," I explain.
"What does he expect from you? Does he want you to wait until you're thirty to have a fucking relationship?" he grumbles.
I honestly don't know why it bothers dad so much.
"I don't know," I mumble. He only sighs.
"And your mom doesn't say anything?"
"When you came to my house, she said I shouldn't let you be there much," I look up at him. His face sets unhappily.
"I should actually probably go home. The last time I stayed for long, Dad got mad," I tell him honestly, picking up my plate, and putting it in the sink.
"Do you want me to wash those?" I question sincerely, nodding to the dishes in the sink.
