Page 15 of Unforgettable Player

She’s still asleep and snoring, and I’m still thinking about Connor looking at me with fire in his eyes, lingering on my lips a second too long.

Scout groans and turns over. I flinch, worried she’ll know just by looking at me that I was thinking about kissing her brother.

We’re up late enough that everyone’s already left to go to work. I keep expecting Connor to pop up from somewhere, but his gym bag is gone from its usual place by the door.

Scout pours the dregs from the coffee machine into two mugs and starts chewing on a cold piece of toast. “Wanna go see a movie or something? They fixed the AC at the Cinemark, so it should be nice and cool.”

“Actually—”

“I swear to God, Eli, if you tell me you’d rather stay home and study, I’ll disown you.”

“You’d never,” I tease.

She squints at me. “It’s fucking summer. You don’t have to study.”

“You know I have to take a summer class to pass Philosophy.”

“It’s an online class, it’s no big deal.” She lowers her gaze to her chipped nail polish. “And you know you can drop that class, right?”

I bristle. “I don’t want to drop it. I want to pass.”

“Eli.” She sighs. “You know you could pass that class if you didn’t have a legitimate reason why it’s so hard for you.”

My voice is smaller than I want it to be when I reply. “Ancient Philosophy is my mom’s field.” I don’t want to drop it because it makes me sad that I can’t ask her for advice, but every time I sit down to read a text I recognize from her bookshelves, my brain shuts down.

I don’t need to say anything more. I’m sure Scout understands why I can’t just push anything that reminds me of my mom aside the way my dad has.

Scout reaches out and strokes my arm. I have to bite the inside of my lip to stop from tearing up.

“Maybe it’s just too soon?”

“It’s been over a year. I shouldn’t still be crying over the slightest reminder.”

She scoffs. “A year is nothing. She was your mom, Eli. It takes as long as it takes. If you need to cry every time you think about her for the rest of your life, that’s your business. No one gets to put a time limit on grief.”

I let her hug me, swallowing the lump in my throat.

She pulls away, putting a hand on my face. “How about this—we take your books out to the pool and I help you study?”

“What do you know about Ancient Philosophy?”

She rolls her eyes. “I go to M.I.T. How hard can some Harvard classes be?”

We get a good hour of discussion in on all the ways Stoicism can be applied to the modern world before Scout calls time on studying.

“I’m gonna take a dip. You coming?” she asks.

“Meh. I’m gonna read for a bit.”

“Eli?”

“It’s for pleasure,” I assure her, pulling out my well-worn copy of The Brother’s Karamazov.

“You’re reading Dostoyevsky for pleasure?”

“Yup.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see the smirk hiding behind the scowl. “Whatever. See you in there.”