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Connor waits for her to be far enough before baring his teeth, grinning at my brother. “She loves me more.”
Trevor shakes his head. “Get out of my house, you Shawn Mendes looking motherfucker,” he grinds out, but he’s joking… I think.
“Shawn’s hair is darker,” I say, though I do get where Trevor’s coming from.
“Who’s Shawn Mendes?” Connor asks.
“Who’s Shawn Mendes,” Trevor mimics under his breath.
“Boys. That’s enough,” I warn, raising the spatula in my hand. “Now you two get along, or I’ll beat the both of you to within an inch of your lives.”
Trevor shivers. “You’re scary,” he says, at the same time Connor takes the spatula from me, smacks my ass with it.
I exaggerate a moan as I bite my lip, look up at him.
Connor laughs.
Trevor mumbles, “I do not want to know what goes on behind closed doors with you two.”
Ignoring him, I ask Connor, “Are you sure you can give me a ride to school?”
“Yes.” He takes over cooking his and Trevor’s breakfast for me. “I don’t want to miss out on any more time with you.”
Trevor gags.
Connor adds, “I’ll have plenty of time. Enough for me to come home and pack.”
“You haven’t packed yet?”
Trevor speaks up, “He’s a guy, we don’t need much.”
“It’s true,” Connor agrees, plating up Trevor’s food and serving it to him. He ruffles what little hair’s on Trevor’s head. “I’ll wear your jerseys for you, Trevor.”
“Shut up,” Trevor laughs out.
Connor gets his own plate and sits opposite my brother. “Do you miss it? Wearing a jersey?”
“Sometimes,” Trevor replies, shrugging, “but it was never my end goal like it is with you, so it’s not life-defining, you know?”
“What was your end goal… or is…?”
I pretend to be washing the dishes, but I’m listening to every word they’re saying.
Trevor answers, “I always wanted to be a talent scout.”
“Oh, yeah? You’d be good at that.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, or an agent.”
“What makes you think I’d be good at either of those things?”
“Because you care. My agent only really cares about the final numbers. Stats, money. You’d care about the person you’re representing, and you’d make sure they get the best outcome.”
“Maybe,” Trevor replies, and I can hear the contemplation in his tone.
“Would you have to go back to school for it?”
