Page 16 of Win You Over
“Nothing at all?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, making my muscles bulge beneath my tee. He doesn’t so much as glance at my display.
His lips twist in thought and he hastily types out a reply.
Drop out of this weekend’s fight.
“So you can win? Not a chance,” I say with a chuckle. His eyebrows pull together adorably. “You don’t actually want that. Forever knowing you only won because I let you.” I lean in a little, closing the space between us without overpowering him. “You want to earn that prize and you want to earn it by taking me down. I know you do,leeutjie. So, in the interest of being a really fucking good friend, I politely decline.”
Straightening up, I flash him my best smile.
Asshole,he types. His lips are pulled tight, but it’s hard to miss the way they’re twitching, as though he’s fighting off a smile.
“Aww you have a pet name for me. I’ll wear it with pride,” I joke, tapping a hand over my heart.
He shakes his head, a hand covering his mouth. He’s definitely warming up to me.
“I’m going to win you over, Booker. It is inevitable.” I wave a hand between us. “This friendship? It’s happening.” He scoffs, his hand falling to reveal that fucking incredible smile. I wonder what it would feel like against my lips.
Now is the time to remind myself that hitting on my straight, not quite friend, is unadvisable. But fuck me sideways, he makes itreallyhard not to.
“Join me for lunch?” I ask, gesturing over my shoulder and towards the general direction of the cafeteria.
He types quickly on his phone, his eyes barely watching the screen as he does.
Even if I said yes, your actual friends would hate it.
I want to say he’s wrong, but there’s this really frustrating truth about our town and that is that the majority of people who live here believe that they are better than everyone else. My extended family included.
When I was six years old, my own grandmother told me I was a disappointment to our family. An heir to a family name that I didn’t deserve because my mother was a ‘commoner’. My bloodline, or more importantly, my unsatisfactory DNA became the cornerstone of her animosity towards me, Nadine and our mother. That my father married a poor backpacker is an affront she could never live down.
Nadine says that’s why I work so hard to make everyone like me. I think she’s wrong. I just like the feeling of being adored.
“They’ll be fine,” I say, none too confident. Holden must hear it in my voice, because he raises one dark eyebrow.
If I’m honest, Finn won’t welcome Holden with open arms. While he is my best friend, we don’t share the same ideals. We’re both products of our upbringing. Me, surrounded by loving, accepting parents. Him, raised by a wealthy, power hungry, homophobic, single father who had very little time for him except for when he needed Finn as a prop. I don’t blame my best friend for being the way he is. Even when he rebels against the things his father instilled in him – like letting me fuck him knowing full well he’d be disowned – he has a tendency to fall back into the ways that were beaten into him.
I hesitate a moment too long, but it’s all the time Holden needs to start typing again. My phone pings and I take it out to see that this time he’s sent me the message.
I think it’s better we keep things between us limited to our assignment. You’ll survive with one less friend.
When I look up from my screen, it’s at his retreating form blending into a sea of students.
Mom places a glass dish in the middle of the table and my mouth waters as the rich aroma wafts through the dining room. Tonight, she’s made abobotie– a dish of curried mince and raisins, topped with a golden baked egg custard. It’s one of my favourites, and I waste no time digging in, piling my plate high.
“Jesus, Rem, leave some for the rest of us,” my sister Nadine remarks.
“Bite me sister-critter,” I retort around a mouthful of food.
She hits me with the back of her fork. “You look like a goat when you eat.”
I flick her on the forehead. “And you look like a racoon that’s been carefully crafted out of carpet fibers.”
“What does that even mean?” She throws her head back and laughs.
Next to Nadine, her fiancé, Rupert sits, his hands poised on the table while he shakes his head. “I will never understand your dynamic.”
I flick a raisin at him, which earns me a backhand to the chest from Nadine. “Nope, partners are off limits, remember, Gremlin?”
“If the two of you are done with your sibling bonding, maybe we could eat?” My dad suggests. He gives my mom’s hand a squeeze before picking up his knife and fork.
