The call ends, and I lower the phone to my lap, staring at the black screen for a moment.
I flop back onto my mattress, staring up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. Hearing about all the shit my brother’s doing is like getting punched in the gut every damn time. He’s ten steps ahead of me. By my age, he was already drafted. And here I am, just trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.
I wanted to go to college. Thought maybe it’d be my way of doing my own thing. A chance to have my own identity before I get thrown into the league and have people compare me to him at every damn turn.
But what’s the point in trying so hard when it feels like I’m always playing catch-up?
I close my eyes for a second, trying to shut out the noise in my head.
But it’s still there—it’s always there.
I run a hand through my hair, gripping the strands as I let out a frustrated breath. Same shit every time he calls. Nothing new. Nothing I don’t expect. But, for some reason, I still wish things were different. Some part of me still wants to be enough on my own, without always being the guy who’s compared to his brother.
Before I can spiral any further, a knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Let’s go,” Nathan’s voice cuts through. “Austin helped me pack the car.”
I close my eyes for a second, wishing for a few more minutes of peace. But I know it’s pointless. The longer I stay in here, the more I’ll just stew on everything that’s been eating at me. With a sigh, I sit up, pushing my brother and all the bullshit that comes with him to the back of my mind.
I grab my clothes and tug them on quickly, glancing in the mirror before I reach for the door handle and pull it open.
Time to go see Isabella.
And act like I’m not picturing her naked… while her brother’s right next to me.
Yeah, this should be interesting.
8
ISABELLA
Ithought taking ceramics as an elective would be cool and kinda fun. After all, I’ve been making random clay stuff every summer since I was fifteen—bowls, mugs, whatever I could shape with my hands. Sure, some of it had holes, leaked, or cracked, but it was fun.
Turns out, though, taking an actual pottery class is a whole different ball game. The sculpture I made today? Definitely… abstract. Maybe post-modern, if you squint hard enough and pretend you don’t know what it’s supposed to be.
By the time I get to my dorm, I’m itching to rip off my clay-covered jeans and hit the showers. Then maybe I’ll curl up in bed, eat some junk food, and binge-watch a cheesy TV show.
I twist the door handle, pushing it open, and find Aurora lying on her bed, with her phone to her ear. Probably talking to her boyfriend again—they’re always on the phone.
My mind drifts to Jacob, and for a second, I wonder if this would’ve been my life every night if we’d tried long distance. Would I be lying here, wondering where he was when I hung up, or who he was with, or what he was doing? The thought sinkslike a rock in my chest, and I shake it off as I kick my shoes off. Maybe Jacob was right to break things off.
“Hey,” Aurora mouths, flashing a quick smile before her eyes drift down to my jeans—now destroyed with clay. She chuckles. “Nice look.”
I roll my eyes and head for the mini fridge, grabbing a Coke, and cracking it open before taking a long, refreshing sip.
“No one, just my roommate,” Aurora says to her boyfriend as she lays back on her bed, twirling a strand of her hair.
I peel off my jacket and catch a glimpse of my clay-covered t-shirt and jeans in the mirror. Ugh. These stains are never coming out.
“Izzy, open the fucking door.”
My brows furrow at the sound of my brother’s voice, before heading toward the door and swinging it open.
My brother stands there, drenched in sweat, his face beet red and a vein bulging from his forehead like he’s about to pop. “Holy shit,” he grunts, dropping two massive cardboard boxes onto the floor with a heavy thud, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “How much shit do you need?”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. “Didn’t you tell me you weren’t gonna bring this stuff up for me?”
Ryan steps into view just behind him, lugging two more boxes. He drops them with a groan, glancing up at me with wide eyes. “These boxes are fucking heavy. What the hell do you have in here? Rocks?”
