Page 113 of The Frathole
Another assurance that any concern I may have is ridiculous.
“That sounds good,” I lie because really, all I want is to be here for him right now, especially with how worked up I got over his injury.
But maybe he’s right. He does need some space. Since that uncomfortable conversation with his parents, he hasn’t had a chance to sit with it on his own. Maybe it’ll be good for him.
Then why doesn’t that make me feel any better?
31
Marty
Itell Mom,Dad, and Aiden about Ryan’s injury and why he couldn’t make it to dinner, assuring them he’ll be fine. But it’s evident they can tell something’s off, that I’m not myself, which sucks because now they’re probably worrying about me the way I’ve been worrying about Ryan since he found out his mom was seeing someone new.
I catch them up about what’s been going on otherwise, and after dinner, Aiden insists I throw the ball around with him out back.
“This is why I wanted Ryan to come over,” Aiden gripes. “I need a real throw, give me some distance.”
“Fuck, Aiden, I’m giving it the best I can.”
He backs up much farther. “If you don’t make it, you have to stay out here for another thirty minutes.”
As much as today sucks, it’s nice being back to the way things were when we were kids.
“It’s not even gonna be light out then!” I call to him.
“So it’s really gonna suck, isn’t it? Just give it to me.”
I put my all into the next throw, tossing a ball I wish we could have recorded for Ryan. It’s even got that perfect spin on it that Aiden taught me how to do. He catches it like it’s nothing, hamming it up like it was such a breeze, though I know he’s just as impressed with himself.
“There we go!” he calls out. “You’ll do anything to get out of a good time, right?”
I can’t stifle my laugh as he hurries toward me. I meet him halfway, and as I notice the sweat on his brow, I realize I’m sweating too.
“That was pretty good, right?” I ask.
He cocks a brow. “Eh, it was aight.”
“Whatever.” I nudge his chair, and he smirks.
We head over to the pool deck, where I settle on the swinging chair, and he pulls up beside me.
“So…” he drags out. “Now you gonna tell me what’s up?”
“Huh?” I’m hoping I can bluff my way out of this one, but his glare suggests it’s not gonna work.
“Don’t play with your brother. I know you better than anyone.”
“I told you Ryan got hurt today.”
His glare intensifies. “Yeah, you’re real worried about your linebacker boyfriend’s boo-boo on his thumb. I’m sure.”
Fuck, I’m not getting out of this one.
“He’s not a linebacker anymore.” I’m trying to deflect, but Aiden isn’t having it.
“Well, let me know how that bottling it all up and letting it eat you alive is working for you.”
He can’t realize, but that really strikes a nerve since I know it’s what Ryan’s doing, and it definitely isn’t working for him.
