All in on You

Chapter Six

I love my family. I swear I do.

Even when I'm on the receiving end of a game of Twenty Questions that I didn't ask to participate in.

"Sorry, where did you say you're going?" My dad asks.

"Todd, leave her alone," my mom tells him as she swats her hand dismissively through the kitchen air.

Yeah, right. That's rich, coming from her. The only reason why my mother isn't pestering me for details now is because she already finished her round of grilling. She knows where I'm leaving for in about an hour and a half.

The irony is, I'm even quite sure where I'm going. I know that JT is Keith's cousin who is a few years older than Keith. Scar told me that he used to play hockey in the minor leagues before he called it quits. Now he runs his wellness social media accounts from his condo in downtown Toronto. Must be sweet. And no, I'm not being sarcastic. I'm fine with the fact that JT probably has more fun and money than I ever will, despite me working my ass off in school all these years. Honestly, I'm okay with it.

What I'm not okay with is that I'm going to his place with Scar and Keith to watch a football game on this blustery winter Sunday, and I don't know who'll be there. I mean, based on what Scar told me when she extended the invitation, it's a few of the guys from the team and their girlfriends, plus a few of JT's "influencer" friends.

Okay, fine, JT you can totally kiss my ass.

I answer my dad briefly and readjust how I'm leaning my body against the counter. My phone vibrates from my back pocket so I pull it out, discreetly taking a look to hide it from the prying eyes of my parents. I swear, they mean well.

Scar: Don't get me wrong, you always look cute. But you might want to look extra cute today because Keith just told me Ang is coming.

I try not to smirk at her word choice with 'coming' but fail. My sense of humor rivals a twelve-year-old boy's and I'm not sure if I should be proud or mortified. But probably mortified.

"Who's all going to be there?" My dad asks.

Air escapes from my nostrils and my chest makes a funny sound. My father always asks me this question, whenever I go out. When I was in primary school, it made sense because he knew all my friends. But he still asks even though I'm out of the house, as if he has any clue who these people are.

"Just some people I met through my internship," is what I go with.

"Your internship with the Toronto Saints!" Brayden whoops as he stomps into the kitchen.

Geez. Every time I see him he looks more and more like a man. I know he's eighteen but still, when your baby brother is seven years younger than you, it's hard to see him as anything other than a little boy.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and brings me into his side. "I hope you're enjoying it," he says.

And this is why I come home for brunch every Sunday I can.

"Where's Serena?" my mom asks.

"She'll be down soon."

My older sister has spent the last hour helping Brayden with his chemistry homework. He's a first-year engineering student at a school in downtown Toronto. As much as I'd love to help my brother with everything and anything, chemistry is more of Serena's, the high school science teacher's, forte.

"Oh, I'm sure she's enjoying it a lot," Serena says as she enters the kitchen, looking at me with a conspiratorial arch in her eyebrows.

"What does that mean?" my dad asks.