Page 53
“What? You think I can’t become one? Have you even been to one of my games?”
“I have not,” I admit, “but it doesn’t matter how good you are. Becoming a professional basketball player”—I laugh at even attempting the statistics on that probability—“the odds are stacked against you. What if you get hurt? What if other players are simply better? What if you’re sick and dropped?”
“What if,” he says, “you simply didn’t think the worst was going to happen?”
I shake my head. “You have to think of the worst to try to prevent it.”
“And you think becoming a lawyer will be easier?”
“Absolutely.” I point to the side of my head. “Something physical is risky, but something that requires your mind is safer, at least. And you know—actually, never mind.”
“No, say it.”
“No, I don’t want to offend you.”
“Now you have to say it,” he says, “and this isn’t me not listening to what you want. I’m genuinely curious.”
Guilt pinches my side. “I didn’t mean you didn’t listen to me always, just the majority of the time.”
He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Nobody has ever called me out on that before. It made me wonder how many times I’ve pissed people off or hurt their feelings just ignoring them when I felt like it.”
“Wow, look at me making the world a better, less agitating place.” I puff up in pride, exaggerating.
He barks out a laugh. “Anyway, feel free to speak what’s on your mind. You know, if you want.”
I tilt my head as I gaze at him and can tell he’s sincerely curious. I would think it would sting if he’s spent a majority of his whole life doing and saying whatever and nobody has stopped him, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.
“Okay,” I tell him. “It’s one thing to be carefree, but it’s another to be careless. Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you should do it. How do you know there isn’t something out there better suited to you if you just focus on something you’re good at?”
He nods, rubbing his neck. He avoids my gaze as he says, “So you think I’m an idiot.”
“I didn’t say that,” I answer. “I just think as much as you believe I overthink, you seem to underthink.”
“I never really thought too hard about that,” he says, and then chuckles. “You look pissed about that.”
I realize I’m frowning and shake my head. “Sorry, maybe I am.”
“Before you said you were jealous.” He links his fingers together. “Is that this again?”
“I mean, yeah,” I admit. “I can’t imagine not putting too much thought into my future. You can be this way because you have a mother with a great job to fall back on, and because life so far has been pretty easy for you. You’re not scared of not being okay.” I look down at the blanket again. “For me, that’s a lot to be jealous of.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and for some reason the words make me feel shamed in a way, though I don’t get why the emotion arrives at all.
“It’s not your fault,” I say and mean it, the realization of that truth hitting me as soon as he says his apology. “I mean, I would like to live your life too, if I could. I guess the universe wanted me to work a bit harder than others.”
“That’s unfair,” Theo says, and crosses his arms against his chest. “Should I talk to the universe for you? Give it a good scolding, add in some threats?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re going to threaten the universe for me.”
“If it’ll help, why not?” He points to the sky, pulls his brows together. “You and I are going to have a serious talk later.”
Another laugh tears out of me before I groan. “Ugh.” I slap my hands on my face, a frustration Theo doesn’t know the source of flooding me. “You’re so much nicer than I thought you were. This was easier when you were more of an ass.”
“What?” He laughs, pulling my hands from my face.
Water falls on his forehead, faster, and we both look up.
“Rain,” he says. “Damn, I thought it was supposed to pass the next town over.” He gets up, moves to gather items.
