Crush

Thanks

Oliver

Liam shot forward in his seat on the sofa next to me and raked a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Fuck's sake! Fucking game!" He thumped his knee with his fist. Hard. His gaze was fixed on the game on TV, blue eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.

I chuckled at my older brother.

Dad rolled his eyes at his eldest son from where he was sitting opposite us on the love seat. "It's just a game, Liam."

Liam flopped back down on the sofa and huffed, grumbling under his breath.

"Yeah, it's just a game, Liam," I mimicked Dad, while shoving Liam's knee.

He sliced his eyes to me. "Shut up," he hissed, shoving me back.

I fell on my side laughing. He'd always been a sore loser. He wasn't even playing, but he was getting grumpy as his favourite football team was losing the game we were watching. Even as kids, Liam would lose his temper if he came second, or thought I wasn't playing fairly. Watching him throw a tantrum now that he was much older amused me. He was never going to change.

Dad took a sip of his coffee and fiddled with the glasses sitting on his nose. "Look, it's half-time. Why don't you go grab some popcorn and chill out?"

Liam slumped down further in his seat. "I didn't come here to watch my team get their asses handed to them," he muttered as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, folding his arms across his chest, still pouting.

Managing to sit myself back up, I stretched out my legs, too, sitting in the same position as my brother.

"Then what did you come home for?" I nudged him with my shoulder. He nudged me back. Harder. "Apart from the big dinner that me and Dad cooked. For you. Without your help."

He rolled his eyes. Shoved me again.

"Actually, I did come here to have my little brother cook me dinner and wait on me all weekend." He smirked at me. I stared wide-eyed at him. He reached over and ruffled my hair.

I pushed him.

Idiot.

Dad's phone started ringing. Glancing guiltily over to Liam and me, he looked down at the screen. "I have to answer this."

I nodded at him. "That's okay." Putting his coffee down, Dad walked out of the living room, phone stuck to his ear.

I watched him as he went, unable to help the frown on my face.

"He's been working more lately," I muttered to Liam. It had been worrying me, to be honest. The late nights in his office, working from his laptop during breakfast, the phone calls he felt like he had to take. Being concerned about Dad was another item to add to the list of things on my mind right now.

"Isn't he helping out with Zain's campaign for mayor or something?" Liam scrunched his nose up. "You said that Zain had finally recruited Dad to help him because he's good at what he does. Isn't everyone working round the clock for that guy lately?"

"Yeah, but ..." It was true. Everyone was working harder for Asher's dad. But that didn't mean that my dad had to. "He always seems to be working. He's been taking more calls. At all times of the day. And he always walks off like that." I motioned towards the door that Dad had just walked through.

"So?" Liam shrugged. "It's work stuff. He probably doesn't want to bore us."

"But he never used to walk off like that before. You know, when he used to take work calls before all of this campaigning shit." Was I worrying over nothing here?