Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
But I felt what I felt, and his invitation takes me back to when I was fourteen years old and irrationally wanted my big brother to invite me.
Shoving my hands down into my pockets, I ask tightly, “And why would they love to meet me?”
He does the same thing with his hands and I wonder if that’s where I get it from, this habit. If so, I’d very much like to break it but as it is, my hands are fisted and I don’t wanna show how this conversation is affecting me.
“They know how good of a soccer player you are,” he says. “And they’d love to play with you.”
“And how do they know about my soccer playing skills?”
“I might’ve mentioned something.”
“And how would you know anything about what kind of a player I am?”
He stares at me a beat before shifting on his feet and sighing. “I’ve seen you play. Only on video, unfortunately, but it’s very apparent that you’re good. You’re very good, Reign. You have a natural talent. A natural grace and athleticism. People can’t be taught that, what you have.”
My fists tighten. “I’m touched but —”
“I know I’ve never said this and I probably should have, but,” he cuts me off and stares at me all gravely, “you’re a much better player than I ever was. And I know that you’ll do great things with it when you get picked next year and —”
I bark out a laugh, cutting him off this time.
Cutting off whatever the fuck he’s trying to do.
“What is this, how to be a big brother in ten days?” I scoff. “Not sure if there are any more ways to say it, but I don’t need a big brother. Okay, big brother? I don’t need you to compliment me on my soccer skills or fucking watch me play. Or tell me how bright my future is. Especially when the only reason I even started playing was because I was forced to. And I was forced to play because of you. That it turned out to be my ticket out of here is fate’s cruel irony. But if you think I wanna ‘get picked’ or go pro or whatever, then you’re not as smart as our wonderfully dead father had thought.”
He frowns then.
Probably a first outward reaction from him. “I have to say… I’m slightly confused. I thought you were entering the drafts.”
“Not sure why you would think that, but no. I’m not.” Then, “I don’t like soccer. In fact I hate soccer. And I have no intention of playing it beyond college.”
“Reign, I’m sure you don’t mean that,” my brother says. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’re a natural at this. You can’t let your talent go to waste. It’s wrong. You —”
“I can, actually,” I quip. “See, I don’t care about doing the right thing. Which means I’m not going to play the game that you love for the rest of my life just because I’m good at it.”
“Reign —”
“Okay, this is starting to piss me off, all right?”
He shuts his mouth thankfully, even though his eyes scream anger.
Whatever.
It’s not my job to make him feel better.
“This isn’t what I agreed to. You do what I asked you to do and in exchange, I work with you at the office. You don’t need to invite me to your exclusive soccer club or advise me on what to do with my future. We don’t need to bond or have a heart-to-heart. We never did before and we’re not going to start now. So,” I sigh, “I decline your invitation. And next time you wanna invite someone on a date, how about your fiancée? She’d be thrilled to go with you.”
That makes him even more pissed off and I’m happy.
At least now he’s at my level.
With that, I turn around and leave the conference room.
Fucking asshole.
I thought Homer was like my father but I was wrong. He’s worse.
At least with my father, I always knew where I stood. I always knew what I was meant to feel. Hate him as much as he hated me because he was a monster through and through.
My big brother, however, is a different kind of devil.
He wants to be my friend. He wants to mend fences. He wants to be my fucking brother.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Please spare me from all the good fucking people and their good fucking intentions.
I have no interest in being saved or being the kind of brother Homer wants. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to let go of my anger and stop hating him.
I was always going to leave once I finished it.
The task of getting her back together with him.
And now that my brother has delivered on his promise — he texted me this morning to let me know that it was done — there’s not even that holding me here. I wanted to give him the courtesy of staying until we wrapped up this project in a few weeks. But if he’s going to insist on killing me with kindness, maybe I should leave him high and dry.