Page 33 of Wrong Pucking Player

“Don’t be absurd, Alex!” she huffs.

“Mackenzie,” Xandra corrects her.

For what has to be the millionth time since I’ve had the horrendous honor of knowing this woman’s existence.

“You should be grateful to have all these opportunities! This is your big break! To prove to the world you’re not some poor orphan case living in that government housing building filled with useless boys and slutty girls who sell their bodies just to put food on the table!” she scolds.

“That building is filled with individuals like me who are forced to accept those circumstances or be cut off funding entirely,” she grumbles back. “Also, should I remind you that you forced me into that building because they gave us a one-time advance which you took and promised to ‘pay me back’ after the birth of your son?”

“Yes, yes, I remember clearly,” she brushes it off like it’s no big deal. “You know I had every intention of paying you back, Alex, but things have gone downhill since then, and we need all the money to survive in this cruel world! You should be happy you could assist us at that time.”

“Yet, I have nothing to show for it,” she mutters.

“Nothing to show for? It’s thanks to me that you have a roof over your head! Do you know how hard it was to get that place secured for the likes of you? I had to belittle myself to my friends who took pity on you and the idea of your parents abandoning you because they were guaranteed a boy. The sheer disappointment of having a girl sent your mother to the cuckoo-cuckoo house. I don’t even want to get into it regarding your father. You’re trying to make it seem like I’m the bad guy here when I saved you! Tell me, who would have taken you in if it wasn’t for me, huh?”

Xandra doesn’t respond, leaving this aunt to huff in victory.

“Anyway, you WILL apply for transportation and housing grants. I’m sure I can pull some strings and speak with the head organizer or something to see what he can do to give you additional funding. I think his name was Mr. Champion from the website. I’ll figure it all out and send it to you in an hour. I want you to send me screenshots once you’re finished so I know you’ve done them. I can’t possibly be applying for you as well, Alex.”

“I won’t need any of this,” Xandra stresses. I can tell from the lines on her face, her patience is running thin.

“We won’t be arguing about this, Alex!”

“Mackenzie!” She snaps back. “I do not need housing. I’ve been looking at housing opportunities, and I can easily find something near the stadium that’s within walking or biking distance. You do not need to apply for anything or ask your million of connections for handouts!”

“We’re not asking for handouts!” she argues.

“Then explain to me what all this is?” she snarls back. “You haven’t even congratulated me! I just found out I got the internship that you didn’t believe I’d be capable of doing because I’m so fucking stupid, and now, you want funding for this, grants for that. FOR WHAT? To raise your damn kids and pay me back later?”

“Ale—

“Her name is Mackenzie Andrews,” I interrupt before Xandra can even open her mouth to defy the woman on the other side.

My entry into the conversation is greeted by silence.

The perfect opportunity to rain on this woman’s money parade.

“It won’t be necessary for Mackenzie to apply to any grants of sorts, Aunt Beverly… if I recall correctly,” I begin and decide it’s best to remind her who I am. “This is Wyatt Cyrus. Coach Westley Cyrus’ eldest son. I’m sure we met a few years ago at the Strattonville BBQ event in the summer. I think it was the year when someone spilled the barrel of Gatorade on you by accident.”

The gasp from the other end makes the corner of my lips inch upward in pure satisfaction.

“I wasn’t aware Mackenzie got an internship. From the way you summarized it, I’m going to assume it has something to do with the new Strattonville Stadium project that’s starting in a few weeks. Funny how I’m the new equipment manager for the stadium and start next week.”

That surprises Xandra because her eyes grow wide as she looks up at me.

“Now that I know Xandra is going to be coming to the stadium more often for her new internship, I guess she wouldn’t mind rooming with me.”

“Wh-What?!” her aunt literally screams.

“Wyatt?” Xandra can barely speak my name while her expression is begging for answers.

“Well, it would make sense,” I vouch as my eyes meet Xandra’s just as I inch inward enough for our lips to brush. “Didn’t you hear? We’re dating again.”

And I’m going down a path that will get my head crushed by this woman’s death grip.

No regrets if it means ruining this woman’s entire night.

Heck. Entire fucking month.

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