Page 8 of Two days, One Pucking Night
“And I don’t have time to teach a child about capitalism or their privilege, especially knowing they’ve never worked a goddamn day in their life!”
It takes me a minute to realize I’m the child he’s referring to. The inexperienced, privileged one, who’s ignorant of the world around them. I should be pissed, offended, even raging, but I bite my tongue, knowing there is a depth of truth there. That truth led me here—to London, far away from home.
“Well, this child is off.” I pick up my suitcase, stuff the spray in my bag, and continue toward the exit. “Read between the lines.” I raise my hand in the air, placing emphasis on my middle finger.
Very mature, I know.
“No, you're not. You’re coming with me,” Xavier mumbles under his breath trailing beside me.
I ignore him and continue walking ahead.
A host of people enter the park and bypass us.
“Stop following me,” I whisper-shout.
“You’re coming with me, Sofia. I made your brother a promise.”
“Good luck with that,” I mutter with more calm than I feel. I didn’t sit through an almost eleven-hour flight and two hours of London traffic to not get the first thing on my list scratched off.
Xavier may be my brother's best friend, but he isn't the boss of me.
“I’m not leaving here without you. Even if it means carrying you over my shoulder.”
I pick up my pace, trying to outwalk him. Not the smartest move, especially when one of his legs dwarfs both of mine. “You won't dare—”
He snickers. “Are you willing to test that with all these people around?”
I'm not willing to, nor am I ready to take what he’s dishing without fighting back, and I don’t even know why.
“I’m sure you’re not looking to babysit this child,” I draw out the word, ignoring the unease and disappointment about his perceived conception of me. I shouldn’t care, but come on, a child. A child? Seriously? I just turned twenty one. I’m grown.
“You’re twisting my words.”
“I’m repeating what you said. And stop following me.” I pick up my pace, hoping he’ll back off and give up his perceived sense of loyalty to my brother.
“I can’t,” his voice resigned. “You need a place to stay—”
“Yes, Zayn's penthouse.” I answer him like a petulant child. Since he thinks I’m one, I should play up to it.
Xavier inhales loudly, and I can see his jaws clench from the corner of my eye. “That’s where I’m headed, and I’m taking you with me.”
“Headed?” I hope to god he’s not staying there. I’ve planned this whole weekend as a retreat. A chance to just lounge, sleep, and maybe visit a few key tourist spots. Without anyone breathing down my neck.
“I’m staying there,” Xavier responds with a scowl.
Great. Just what I need, someone snitching to my brother about my every move.
“Aren't you originally from London? Don't you have your own place?”
“It’s under construction. I’m making some changes to it.”
“Then stay at your family’s!”
Something passes over his face so quickly I can’t read it.
“This.” He motions between us. “Is happening. I’m not going to argue with you about it.”
I huff out a frustrated breath, frustrated that he has a response for everything. “I’m not coming, not yet.”
