Figuring You Out

Chapter Three

Oliver's POV

"Hey bud," Dad said to me, ruffling my sweaty and rain flattened hair, still managing to type away at his laptop. Dad was a screenwriter and an avid photographer so he was always working on something or other. He had the same mousey brown hair as me and I'd inherited his height, otherwise known as giant stature. 

"Hey, where's Mum?" I ask, cracking open a can of cola. 

"A new client called in high priority, apparently," he dismissed, waving it off. Mum was the director of fashion at Selfridge's and led a team of stylists there along with various meeting and such. Dad then did something very worrying; he shut his laptop. Now, I know that sounds extreme but Dad never stops writing like that unless he has a severe breakdown (which has only happened once) or he wants a very serious conversation about something. I move to the kitchen counter, awaiting my lecture, "So, I had a phone call from Mr Fryday today," 

I roll my eyes, although I'm relieved It's not as serious as I thought. "Did you know? And what did the old bat have to say?" I ask. 

"That you are set to fail your exam that you already failed last year," he starts, coldly. Yep. I had failed both my math and science GCSE but Kington was a sports driven school so I was offered a place at there sixth form on the condition that I retake my exams. Quite a few had failed it too due to a lack of teaching and the school had a reduced number of applicants from other schools so accepted the vast majority of us. 

"It's not my fault if his lessons bore me to the point of sleep," I comment.

"Oliver," Dad warns, I remain silent, "I've arranged a meeting with him Monday morning and I expect you to be there," 

"Well, it's school I have to be there," I state, he almost breaks into a grin but doesn't let himself instead he shakes his head and turns back to his work, "I thought you would be at the office anyways," 

"Painters are there and I can't stand the smell of paint," he says, scrunching his face up slightly before taking a call and mouthing 'Andrew' at me. Andrew was Dad's writing partner, they worked together on a lot of stuff including TV shows and their latest film project. I slipped away from the kitchen and head upstairs to rest before round two of training later tonight. It was a lot but I enjoyed it. Me and Liam were thinking of dropping the school team last year but then decided against it because the girls hockey team were playing with some very questionable shorts in the next field . It's fair to say it was Liam who drove that decision rather than me but hey, I wasn't going to give up my sexuality with something stupid like that. 

That's another thing though. How the hell do people come out? Like surely it's a whole heap of awkwardness and tension and upset and from my family tears. We are a family of criers, Mum was adamant that we would all "talk about our emotions" at the dinner table every Friday dinner. Well, when I eventually muster up the courage to tell my parents about my sexuality it was going to make for a very awkward Friday dinner. Can't wait for that day. Truly.