AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So, you couldn’t have stopped that shot like that guy said?”
“If I did it would’ve been luck. I wouldn’t have played it any different than Gauthier did, that’s for sure. I wish I could tell him that in person.” I sigh and collapse into the cushions behind me. One more week. One more week before I can start rehab and get off this damn couch. I bolt up and reach for my crutches.
“Where are you going?” Tripp asks.
“I don’t know.” I push myself off the couch and crutch toward the kitchen.
“Are you always this jittery, or only when you’re supposed to be sitting still?” His voice is close enough that I assume he’s following me.
“Asks the guy who literally bounces up and down while he’s playing video games,” I chuff.
“You were holding my joystick, so…”
“That’s…” I shake my head back and forth. “Can’t you ever be serious?”
“When the situation calls for it.”
“You don’t think this is a serious situation?”
“What I think is you’re so used to playing the role of Mr. Perfect that you haven’t let yourself get pissed about your ankle, and you’re starting to buckle under all this pressure of pretending you’re fine.”
“I…what?” My chest heaves as I try to keep myself from shouting.
“You’ve never let yourself feel angry or sad or guilty about getting hurt, which I’m guessing is why you can’t sit still and have been prickly all day. This shit sucks. Get angry.”
“I already told you this isn’t your fault.”
“And I didn’t say to get angry at me, just to get angry.”
My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath, preparing to defend myself. Only I can’t, because every bit of what he said is true. I am trying to stay in control, and I don’t know how to handle the fact that I’m not. My skin is crawling due to the overabundance of restless energy, anger and guilt, none of which Tripp deserves to bear the brunt of. That’s hard to remember when he’s smirking at me though, daring me to take his bait.
“Fuck!” I shout.
“There you go.” Tripp winks.
“There I go?” My volume is still abnormally high, but I’m no longer shouting. “There you go, being a brat again.”
“You seem to like it.”
“What?” I seethe.
“You’re reacting. Showing some emotion. That’s good.”
“How would you know? Your only emotion is not giving a shit.”
The wince is so slight I’m not even sure it’s real, though before I can regret my words, he pastes a blank look on his face. “We aren’t talking about me.”
“We could be, Mr. I don’t do relationships.”
“Yeah, but we’re not. Right now, this is about you, and how it’s okay for you to not be perfect and in control all the time.
“You want me to lose control?” My hands are gripping the crutches so hard my knuckles are white.
“If that’s what’ll get your head right.”
“Don’t bait me.”
“Or what? You’ll throw something. Punch a wall. Fuck me.” He licks his lip suggestively.
