Page 35 of Break Points and Face Offs

“Will tells me you were in a fraternity.”

I nod. “I was the president of Alpha Sigma Psi.”

“Wow, impressive.”

She doesn’t know what it is. Somehow, that makes her ‘wow, impressive’ comment feel patronizing. Like I just told her I won a medal for participation in a three-legged race.

“And you play tennis?”

“I played tennis, yes. On the Princeton team.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“For the same reason Will stopped playing competitive hockey, I suppose—I didn’t have the time.”

She nods and the relaxed smile drops into something more concerned.

“He works too hard. He always has.”

I almost tell her that there’s no such thing as working too hard, but I stop myself just in time.

The water boils and she turns her back to fill three mugs.

Luckily, Will comes down the stairs. The dog—who had been padding around the house, wisely staying away from me—lopes over to him, clumsily knocking into walls on his way. Will’s face lights up at the sight of him, like he hasn’t already been slobbered all over five minutes ago. He starts talking to him in the baby voice again and I have to bite my lip to stop from smiling.

“We’ve had that dog since Will was little,” Will’s mom tells me.

“How old is he?”

“Old,” she says with a laugh.

We take tea in the dining room, where the dog sits dutifully at Will’s feet, looking up at him with big, adoring eyes. Will absentmindedly rubs behind his ear while he talks to his mother. I’m not calling her Tarah.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t find myself in intimate family scenes often. Of course, I was present when fraternity brothers’ parents came to visit, especially the freshmen who have only recently left home for the first time. But I was never a guest in those scenarios. The fraternity house was my home. And for those last few years, I was the leader there.

They seem to forget about me for a moment, which is fine. I sip my tea—lemon and something.

“Sorry, Priestley. Listen to us, going on.”

“It’s fine, you have a lot to catch up on.” Though you saw each other weeks ago, I’m sure, and probably talk on the phone every night. I saw ‘Ma’ flash on Will’s phone when he was getting out of the car yesterday.

“How’s school going anyway? How’s that Professor Moreno? Do you like her, Priestley?”

I open my mouth to give the bullshit answer, but Will jumps in and answers for me.

“She doesn’t like Priestley very much,” he says with a grin.

“Why not?” Mrs. O’Reilly asks.

“I’d say it’s less about her not liking me, and more about her adoring Will.” Will may lack tact, but I do not.

His mother lights up at my comment and Will shrinks in on himself, stroking the dog’s ear so enthusiastically its eyes roll back.

“Will told me about the leaderboard.”

She’s beaming, but Will’s casually pleased expression has turned into a frown.

“Our group was put on the bottom,” he says.