Dream Guy

Chapter 1

Note:

YONDER is a new app from the creators of Wattpad and WEBTOON. This story has been published by the official YONDER profile on Wattpad with the contractual consent of its author.

***

EDEN

You sure you don't need any money? I'm your big brother, Eden. It's my job to look after you.

I stare at my phone screen, humiliated for the second time today.

I know I shouldn't be. Cruz is just trying to be a good older brother, like always. He's actually being incredibly generous right now, offering to help his broke, college student sister make ends meet.

But I can't help the shame that heats my face as I read my brother's text message. Earlier today I rode the shame train when I checked my bank balance. A whopping $17.55 sits in my account to get me through the end of this week. Great.

My phone buzzes with another text from Cruz.

We all need help from time to time. Remember how Mom and Dad loaned me money to start my physical therapy business?

The tiniest pang of irritation pricks at me, and I kick my feet up onto the coffee table so hard that my water glass rattles. I call him.

"Your business was so successful that you paid them back after only a year. With interest," I say instead of "hello."

My well-meaning brother's attempt at trying to console and relate to me only makes me feel worse. Even when overachieving Cruz needed help, he exceeded expectations.

"Come on, Eden. This isn't a contest," Cruz says in that soothing tone he's perfected since childhood, the one where he manages to sound kind and matter-of-fact all at once. "I want to help you. You work so hard."

"Tell that to Mom and Dad," I say quietly.

He lets out a quiet sigh, his telltale trait that he's stuck between a rock and a hard place: trying to play peacemaker between me and our parents, like he has for most of our lives.

"They mean well. They just have a hard time looking past mistakes. It's annoying as hell, I know."

"Good to know that they think my lifestyle is a mistake," I mutter.

"Sorry, Eden. I...I didn't mean to make it sound like that."

I soften at the distress in Cruz's voice. He's only trying to help. It's not his fault our parents refuse to see me as anything other than the frazzled, free-spirited, and flaky baby of the family—the one who failed at a dozen hobbies, clubs, and classes for every single activity that I excelled at. For two corporate lawyers who do everything by the book, they've always favored Cruz. He was a straight-A student who played baseball in high school and college before earning a physical therapy degree. Now at just twenty-eight, he's the co-owner of one of the top sports medicine consulting firms in all of Portland.

It's a stark contrast to me, a twenty-three-year-old college junior who bartends for a living after spending my "prime education years" (according to my parents) working service jobs to finance my travel habit, something they loathe. It's pretty low on the "how disappointing can a human being be?" scale. But for my parents, who value success and image above all else, the lack of prestige in my professional life is akin to a slap in the face. After they cut me off financially for years for not following the plan they had laid out for me—college right after high school, graduate with honors, get a prestigious job, all that—I finally gave in: I enrolled in college as a computer science major. They pay my tuition as long as I pass my classes and stay on track to graduate with a degree that will get me a "respectable" job.