Robert tallies on his fingers. “Well there was… and… oh, and don’t forget… yeah… and then the…”
Matt braces himself for the worse. He’ll pay it back, no matter how much Robert tries to refuse it. He has an obligation to pay back every cent, even if it takes the rest of his life.
“A hundred bucks,” Robert says with finality. “Give or take a couple dollars.”
Matt blows a raspberry. “You mean ‘give or take a couple ofmillionsof dollars’! C’mon, Bobby, how much?”
“I dunno, I’msooobad at math.” Robert leans into his accent when he says, “I reckon I coulda used that silly ole college money after all.”
“That’s not funny!” Matt can’t help but laugh. “You could’ve had a completely different life. Could’ve done anything with that kinda money.”
“Like get a fancy college degree, a big obnoxious house, and some supermodel housewife?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Instead, I got an entire racing career, a big obnoxious house, and a teammate who used to hate me.”
“A terrible investment.”
“Go easy on me, I was five.” Robert hums. “No, I promise, I wouldn’t change anything. Besides, I’vemorethan made that money back. I don’t think any of my brands would’ve ever sponsored Robert Miller, College Graduate.”
“They might’ve sponsored Robert Miller, Quarterback.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Matt deflates. “If I never tricked you into joining the advanced league, that could be your life right now.”
“Oh, no. Definitely not.”
“Definitely?” That’s a strong word for a hypothetical conversation.
“I’m a third generation Miller. Of theRacing Millers.” It loses its luster when Robert says it sarcastically. “C’mon, you can’t seriously think you were the only person in my family who encouraged me to race?”
In my family. Robert thought of Matt as family? What did that even mean? Like brothers? Or… someone he would choose to be with?
Matt’s head pops up, suddenly interested in watching Robert. “I wasn’t?”
“It wasn’t a matter of whether I’d end up driving, only when. No time for football in our house.”
That’s not reassuring, it’s just sad in its own way. Everything Matt envied Robert for—the money, the racing connections, his bloodline—is everything he had tried to escape.
How good of a friend could Matt be if he had kept Robert trapped in that cycle for his own benefit?
“I mean, maybe I could’ve done football if I sucked at racing, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for encouraging me to be better. Like—you okay?”
“Huh?” Matt blinks a couple of times until Robert’s face focuses again. “What?”
“Jesus Christ.” Robert hooks an arm around Matt's neck and drags him closer, up under his armpit.
“Hey!”
Robert digs his knuckles into Matt’s head, running them back and forth. “I’m trying to make you feel better about my life—which is superweird, by the way—and you completely zone out!”
Matt’s arms flail, his hands scrambling to find Robert’s face from the awkward position. “Then get a better life story,Jesus.” He makes contact with a satisfying slap and immediately rears back to slap at his face again.
“That’s myeye, you little?—”
Someone knocks on the door frame and the boys freeze. Robert’s arm loosens just enough for Matt to pull his head away and face the intruder.
