As I stare at the game screen, frustration bubbles within me. “This is so stupid!” I huff with irritation, slamming the controller back on the table.
Liam snickers, stretching his arms over his head. “Time for you to admit I’m better than you at FIFA. Move on.”
A surge of self-directed anger rises within me. Poppy is clearly apprehensive, and she’s ready to admit her family is to blame for everything, and yet, it’s not enough. I can feel the heat of my frustration, a burning sensation in my chest that has nothing to do with the game.
Liam, with a playful smirk, says, “Come on, E. Lighten up. It’s only a game, yeah?” His words, though light, do little to dissipate the tension knotting inside me.
I wave my hand dismissively, leaning back on the comfortable leather sofa. The softness of the leather does little to help my tensed muscles.
Liam frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Seriously, what crawled into your ass and died?”
“That secretary info is crap. I know almost nothing.” My voice is sharper than I intend, a reflection of my inner turmoil.
Liam rolls his eyes. “Here we go,” he mutters. “I never said she knew everything, but I think that her actual name, address, and schedule were not nothing. And why do you care anyway? You can get any girl you want. She’s not even that hot.”
But she is. Poppy is not hot, she’s beautiful… AND hot. The memory of her smile, the way her eyes light up, haunts my thoughts, adding to my frustration. Pushing off the sofa, I stride to the fridge, the cool air hitting my face as I yank it open. I grab a beer, the cold can a brief respite from my simmering irritation. “It has nothing to do with that. She and I have accounts to settle.”
Liam throws me a side look full of disbelief. “Right, if that’s your story. I got you her name and her address, and the rest’s on you.”
“No, not on me. Morticia interrupted,” I bark as I come back to the sofa, sitting back with a huff.
His mouth lifts in a half smile. “Vanessa? The goth one? That one, I won’t lie, is quite fascinating.”
“Too bad you’re not sleeping with students, isn’t it?” I challenge, keeping my eyes on him.
He nods, running his forefinger over his lips. His eyes flicker to my hand and the beer I’m holding. “I thought we said no alcohol the day before the game.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Dad! It’s only beer. I’m not on a bender!”
He shakes his head and looks at his watch. “You know what? Do whatever you want but don’t go around fucking up the game.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m going to shower,” Liam says before standing up. He walks to his room before turning around. “If you want to know everything about her, why don’t you ask your father?”
My father… probably the only person in the world she hates more than she hates me.
“Isn’t he that superpowerful media mogul?” Liam’s words drip with sarcasm, his eyebrows raised in a mocking challenge, pushing me further toward a decision I’m hesitant to make.
“He is.” I don’t want to get into details because no matter what, I’m not overly proud of what transpired junior year between Poppy and me, and once I had discovered how serious the situation was for her, she had transferred God knows where.
The phone in my pocket feels like a lead weight, its presence a nagging reminder of the call I dread to make. Am I desperate enough to call him?
“What is it? Little Ethan is afraid to call Daddy?” His grin widens as my scowl deepens.
Liam doesn’t know, but I’ve made getting on my father’s nerves a national sport since the beginning of my senior year of high school. I think some part of me was angry at him taking Poppy out of the equation. Whatever the result of this equation, it started with the tattoos that almost gave him a coronary, followed by my choice to break tradition and refuse Harvard’s offer, only to pick Silverbrook instead. He’d threatened, but I reminded him that I have a seven-digit trust fund coming directly from my maternal grandfather and didn’t need his money, but he needed his heir.
With reluctance, my thumb hovers over the call button. I keep my eyes on Liam, his grin fueling my defiance as I press the call button, bracing myself for the tedious conversation I am about to have.
The phone rings twice before it’s picked up. “Ethan?” The voice on the other end is as stern and cold as I remember, sending a chill down my spine despite the distance.
“Hey, Dad.” I try to keep my voice steady, unaffected by his tone.
“You missed Sunday dinner. Again. That’s seven in a row.” His voice is filled with disapproval, the familiar tone of criticism making my fingers tighten around the phone.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “Should be a hint I’m not planning to come, shouldn’t it?”
There’s a moment of silence from the other end. “Your mother misses you, Ethan.”
I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes my lips. “Does she? Or does she just miss the show of the perfect family?”
“Don’t start, Ethan.” Frustration seeps through his pause. “Ethan, you continue to disappoint. Your choices, your attitude…” He trails off with a sigh. “When will you understand the responsibilities you have?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam heading to his bedroom, shaking his head as he closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with the voice on the other end of the line.
I can feel the old anger bubbling up, the same arguments playing out as they always do. “I understand my responsibilities just fine, Dad. They might not align with what you’ve planned out.”
“You think this is a joke?” His voice rises, the edge sharper. “You think you can gallivant around, ignoring your duties, your family?”
I press the phone harder against my ear, my voice low. “I’m not ignoring my duties. I’m living my life. Something you should try sometime.”
The line goes silent for a beat, and I think he might have hung up. But then I detect the deep exhale, the sound of resignation. “We’ll talk about this later, Ethan. Just… try to remember you’re a Hawthorne.
“I’ll be at the game tomorrow,” he adds abruptly, his voice cold. “I can witness once again why you passed Harvard for a low-class university.”
I grit my teeth, frustration boiling within me. “Silverbrook is Ivy League, Dad.”
“But it’s not Harvard, is it?” he retorts, his voice dripping with disdain.
In my mind, a thought forms, clear and defiant. If Harvard thrives on men like you, I don’t want to go. But I bite back the words, knowing it will only add fuel to the fire.
The call ends with a click, his final words hanging in the air. I stare at the phone in my hand, the silence now filling the space around me. I didn’t ask about Poppy. The timing wasn’t right. Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I feel a mix of relief and frustration. The conversation with my father, as always, left a bitter taste in my mouth. Trying to clear my head of his words, I refocus on tomorrow’s game. He’ll be there in the stands, surveying, judging my every move. But it doesn’t matter. I chose Silverbrook for a reason, and I don’t regret it. Not for a second.
I chose to be different from him, and that was my first step.
I go to my room and grab my schedule and hers to see how I can “inadvertently” run into her.
“Seriously, man!” The door slams open, and Cole strides in, his trainers thudding against the hardwood floor. He tosses his keys into the bowl by the entrance, their clatter echoing through the room.
I throw him a confused look at the offense on his face. “Okay?”
He shakes his head, his eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. “Okay?! Okay?! It was better to play FIFA than to come meet me at the gym as planned?” His arms flail in a dramatic gesture, emphasizing his mock outrage.
Fuck, Poppy is really messing up my mind. “You should have called!”
He slaps his forehead dramatically, his face a picture of mock despair. “Oh? Oh! Why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait, I did!” He pulls out his phone, waving it in front of my face, the screen lighting up with the log of missed calls.
I check my phone, which is as usual in DND. I finally notice the texts and missed calls I’d not even looked at when I called my father, having way too much on my mind.
His frown deepens as he sees the papers on the counter. “And what are you doing now? Stalking the girl?” He leans over the counter, his eyes scanning the papers with a smirk.
I can’t help but scoff. “Sure, because it was not you I saw driving around her building.”
A questioning look crosses his face, arms folded across his chest. “And how do you know that if you were not there yourself, huh?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I guess you don’t care about Evangeline’s schedule then. Fine.”
Cole’s eyes reduce to slits, a playful suspicion in his gaze. “You don’t have it,” he challenges.
A teasing grin plays on my lips. “Wanna bet?”
“Liam!” he calls out loud, hoping for backup.
“Fine, shut the fuck up!” I bark, pulling the page from under Poppy’s schedule and pushing it toward him on the counter. I am not in the mood for another speech about how sports and friendship come before girl drama.
Cole grabs Eva’s schedule and lets out a low whistle. “Man, she’s got more brains than the both of us combined. And she’s into… medieval poetry? What the hell is that?”
I snort, shaking my head. “Beats me. Maybe she’s into knights and dragons.”
Cole snorts, leaning back on the counter, his laughter filling the room. “Maybe she’s looking for her knight in shining armor. Think I can pull that off?” He strikes a pose, puffing his chest out and placing a hand on his hip.
I roll my eyes. “Very funny. I think you should stick to being the idiotic fuckboy.”
Cole flips me off, his grin unwavering. “What about yours?” He leans closer to look at Poppy’s schedule.
Hearing him call her “mine” does things in my stomach that I hate.
He snickers. “You better forget that one too, brother. She’s studying sociology. She probably knows you’re a common fuckboy too.”
I flip him off, too, my face heating up. “She’s different.”
“What if we work together? Two brains are better than one.”
“Work to what?” I ask, not sure that his intention toward Evangeline is the same as mine for Poppy.
What are your intentions? the voice in my head asks, and I have no idea.
“I’m not certain yet, but one thing I know.” He points a finger at me, a mock serious expression on his face. “No more missing gym sessions for stalking missions. Got it?”
I laugh, nodding. “Got it, Coach.”
He grins, clapping me on the back as he heads toward the door. “Good. Now, let’s go get some real food. I’m starving.”
“Should we ask Liam to join?” I ask, pointing at the door once Liam’s shower stops.
“So he can force kale on me? I swear one more time, and I will completely lose it.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I need junk today.”
As we head out, I can’t help but feel a bit lighter, the burden of the earlier conversation with my father lifting slightly. Cole’s humor and easygoing attitude always have a way of doing that. And for that, I’m grateful.
We step out into the night, and the city lights are bright and vibrant. The cool breeze brushes against my face, a refreshing counterpoint to the heated conversation from earlier. We walk down the street, our laughter mixing with the hum of city life.
“Pizza or burgers?” Cole asks, his eyes scanning the various food joints lining the street.
“Burgers,” I reply, my mouth already watering at the thought.
He nods approvingly. “Good choice, man. Let’s destroy some burgers and forget about the world for a while.”
I couldn’t agree more. The night stretches ahead, filled with the promise of greasy food, good company, and a temporary escape from the chaos of life.
