Page 53 of The Illicit Play
My insides sizzle, painful electric currents shooting through me as my chest starts to constrict. The air in my lungs is stifling. I push my hand against my chest, feeling my racing heart as a wave of dizziness whips around my head.
Jerking to my feet, I grab my jacket, desperate for escape. When I open my bedroom door, I listen for noises in the house and figure it’s safe to head downstairs. I nearly make it to the back door in the kitchen when I hear Wily calling me.
“Hey, butt face, come say hi to Mom and Dad!” His voice is so cheerful. So oblivious.
I tense, digging my nails into my arms before forcing myself to turn around and walk back to the living room.
Game face on. Let’s go. You’re sweet, angelic Blake now, remember?
“I wish you wouldn’t call her that, Wily. It’s so vulgar,” Mom’s complaining.
“She calls me shithead. It’s only fair.”
Dad laughs while Mom continues to sigh and complain that she tried to teach us good manners but obviously failed miserably.
“Hey, Daddy.” I put on my bright, cheerful voice. The one my father loves the best.
“My sweet girl.” He beams at me through Wily’s phone, then looks at Mom. “You didn’t fail, sweetheart. These two are perfect.”
Mom’s lips twitch. “They are.”
The pressure inside me blooms, pushing against my chest cavity and making my smile waver.
I force it back into place, playing along and sharing an eye roll with my brother.
“I was just telling them how well my recovery is coming along. The PT was really positive yesterday.”
“Yeah, he was.” I nod, happy to be focusing on my brother. “Wily’s been doing all the exercises and not missing a beat.”
“Well, he’s motivated.” Dad beams at him. “Proud of you, son. Your football career isn’t over.”
“Yeah, I know.” Wily nods at our parents. “Everything’s gonna work out.”
I’m not sure he’s 100 percent convinced of that, but it’s what our parents need to hear, so he sells it the way he always does.
And I sell it the way I always do, having to work extra hard when Mom turns her attention to me and asks, “So, when are you heading back to Chicago?”
Shit, I hate that question so fucking much!
Blowing out a breath, I quickly spill the lie I’ve been refining. “I’ve been in touch with all of my professors, and they said because I’m keeping up with everything so well,they’re happy for me to stay in Nolan and keep going with online studies.”
“But what about exams?”
“Yeah, that part’s a little trickier.” I wince. “I might just fly back to Chicago for exam week. The test I missed last week, I can submit online. My professor figured out a way to help me do that.”
Bullshit. Allllll bullshit.
“That was nice of him. Or her.” Mom smiles, obviously relieved. “And I’m glad you’re flying back for exam week, but don’t you think you should head back earlier than that?”
I shrug. “I was always planning to be here until after spring break, and… it’s nice hanging out with Wily and his roommates. I’m enjoying my time here.”
Wily frowns up at me. “You’re always studying up in your room or doing stuff to help me. How is that fun?”
“I get to have dinner with you guys and help Satch prepare meals and hang out with Sienna and Zoey sometimes. I’m notalwaysstudying.” I roll my eyes and force out a laugh.
“She’s studious.” Mom stands up for me. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re proud of you, sweetie. You keep up that hard work. You won’t regret it.”
“Thanks, Mom.” My smile is so forced my cheeks are starting to hurt.
