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I exhale, a steady stream of air like the hissing of a tire. “And if he cuts me off?”
“Let him.”
“What if he kicks me out of the house?”
“Do you really think he’d do that?”
Did I? I wasn’t sure.
But he was certainly used to getting everything he wanted. He just took and took until there was nothing left. In business as well as his personal life. Just like he took Ms. Stone. He took all of Mom’s good years, her youth, then cheated on her. Just like he’d take mine. He’d drain me of every dream I ever had. The one thing I loved, just so his stupid legacy could live on.
Even if he didn’t kick me out, I imagined not having somewhere to go back to on spring and summer break, having no support in case things went south, no financial backing. Nothing, despite having everything I’ve ever wanted handed to me my entire life. Could I make it on my own? What if he was right and I couldn’t? I’d been groomed to expect an affluent lifestyle when coaching would probably only ever keep me comfortable. Was that enough? Or would I find myself constantly wanting?
I hated that he made me doubt myself, even though I was nothing like him. I didn’t want to chase money my whole life, but instead, I wanted to do something I loved. And suddenly, I no longer cared if he made good on his promise. Because I didn’t need his money or his house or his business. Not when I’d have my scholarship, and I’d get my degree. If I got injured, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, but that was a risk I was willing to take. The truth was, I didn’t even like my father, and after what I learned about him this past year, I certainly didn’t respect him.
“You’re right.”
“I’m always right,” P said with a confidence I wished she’d exude all the time. It reminded me of Julie, and I wondered what she’d be like if, all these years, people would’ve given her even half a chance.
“You’re a good friend; you know that?” I nudged her in the arm, heart aching when she flashed me a crooked smile.
“Friends.” She nodded.
“Unless you wanna be more.” I wiggled my brows like it was a joke to cover up the fact that I was feeling her out because I was entirely serious.
Her cheeks bloomed bright red. “Kings don’t date peasants.”
A flash of irritation stabbed in my chest. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“It’s just a joke.”
“A stupid one.”
Her mouth opened, but I stopped her with a finger over her lips, feeling an electric jolt down to my bones at the touch. “You’re amazing, and you don’t give yourself enough credit. If you’d just open up and believe in yourself a little, you’d have half the boys in our class crawling on their hands and knees.”
Laughter spluttered beneath my finger.
I shot her a dark look. “I’m serious.”
She reached up and clasped my wrist, gently pulling my hand away, and I let her. Mostly because the warmth of her hand over mine stirred my insides.
“Boys like you don’t date girls like me. They fall for girls like Gabby Haines. Bubbly blondes that wear short skirts and cheer and spend inordinate amounts of time on their makeup and hair and—”
“Not true,” I cut her off.
“Pah!” A puff of air escaped her lips. “How can you even say that? The two of you have dated on and off for years.”
“That’s just because . . .” I searched for words that wouldn’t make me sound like a jerk, but no matter how I cut it, my reasoning—the truth—made me sound like a douchebag. “It was easy.”
I raked a hand through my hair with a low growl, unsure of what frustrated me more, the fact that she was right to stereotype me or that she was clueless in regard to how I felt about her. But then I thought about how I mentioned Julie in our tutor sessions, how I’d been talking to a girl I liked. Given our history, I couldn’t exactly blame P for thinking she’d be the last person I’d want.
“I know how that sounds. It’s not like I didn’t like her, but I know Gabby. She’s predictable. With her, there are no surprises. I know what she expects of me and vice versa, and when your father is as demanding as mine, and you’re just struggling to hang on by your fingernails, you go with what works. With what takes the least effort.” My mouth twisted on the words. I was a regular Prince Charming.
“So why’d you break up with her again?”
“Because I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not. Because I’m tired of easy. Because I want to start living an authentic life, and that starts with being honest with myself. I don’t love Gabby. I never have. And, yeah, I’m torn between wanting to stay Topher Elliot, King Royal, because it’s safe, and dying to be someone else. To bejustTopher Elliot, whoever that is.”
I glanced down to Penelope’s hands twisting in her lap, and I asked, “Does that make sense?”
