Page 11 of Lessons in Faking
From the way he stopped short to the look he sent me, it was obvious McCarthy could sense the tension from where he stood, and he didn’t feel the need to move closer toward it.
I looked back at my brother. “Nothing to say?”
“I’ve got a lot to say,” he suddenly snapped, eyes back on me. “But this argument is not worth skipping practice over. It’s not even worthhaving. I’m dealing with shit you don’t know anything about, and I did you a favor despite that. You can thank me when you realize it.”
Something snapped. In me. Between us. My next words were more unhinged, though hushed, because as much as I wanted to embarrass him, I did not need personal issues aired out in front of the HBU soccer team. “You have no right to just reach into my life and change what you don’t like,” I hissed. “We talk once a month, andthisis when you decide to butt in?” I tried to make the accusation sound snippy—to make him feel guilty aboutshutting me out, about the fact we’d become part of each other’s lives merely out of some kind of genetic obligation.
“Clearly I have to. Because you would’ve continued going to those stupid lessons, with your stupid thin walls and McCarthy’s stupid face.” The mere mention of his name made a vein pop on Henry’s forehead. At least he felt the argument wasworth havingnow. At least he was talking to me.
I almost laughed. “You’re acting like a ten-year-old, Henry—”
“I just don’t want you to spend time with him, for fucks sake!”
“And I don’t want you to control my life.Look!” I cheered, sarcastically. “Seems like we’re both not getting what we want.”
At that, he ducked under the white handrail we argued across, grabbing my arm to drag me out of the team’s sight. If this were a cartoon, there’d be steam coming out of his ears.
“You can’t tell me what to do—”
“I can try!” he shot back, finally coming to a halt behind the changing rooms.
“You can’t!” Pretty sure I shouted that. “If I want to, I’ll continue going to McCarthy’s stupid lessons. If I want to, I’ll see him outside of them too. If I want to—” It was out before I could stop myself. “If I want to, I’ll go out with him. Get a drink. Go back to his place. I’ll do whatever the hell I want, Henry. You’re not the boss of me, and I’m not twelve anymore.”
And that’s what seemed to do it. What sent him over the edge. I almost smiled at the way his head turned a deep shade of red with fury. “That’s what you want?”
No.“Maybe I do.”
Henry’s eyes closed in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself. But he sensed my bluff, I could feel it. “No, you don’t.”
There it was.
So really, I had no other choice but to double down. I had to. My hands were basically tied.
“Maybe I already am.”
“You’re not.” A beat, and his eyes narrowed, as if he just remembered a vital piece of information. “So Jason was telling the truth, then?”
It was all I could do not to flinch at the name, not to yell and scream at the mere fact my brother had talked to my ex-boyfriend behind my back. About me. And not knowing what exactly they’d said was killing me. But... it seemed to make Henry believe the lies I was telling him.
So with the tiniest smirk, I shrugged.
I had the upper hand now, and that’s all it took for me to relax into the feeling of it—to forget that he’d betrayed me not once, but twice now. Not just with the Shaw thing, but by talking to the guy who had fucking ruined me a year ago.
“God,” he groaned. “You’re fucking infuriating, Athalia—”
A whistle sounded, another voice called for Henry (in that no-bullshit way only a coach could muster), and itmust’ve reminded him of where he was supposed to be. On the field. With his team.
Not behind the locker rooms, arguing with his sister—speaking more than a few words to her for the first time in months, even if they were unpleasant.
So just like that, cartoon-red, steam-engine Henry fled the scene.
Chapter 6
I didn’t like being angry at my brother.
We’d grown up fighting more often than we got along. And I wasn’t sure if he’d just gotten older, or if he really did seem more unhinged today than I remembered him ever being. Even when we were shouting and screaming through our entire summer house so loudly the walls shook, he’d never seemed quite so on edge.
I’m dealing with shit you don’t know anything about, and I did you a favor despite that.
