Secrets (BxB) ✅

5: crushed

A/N: Another update! Enjoy!! 🎉

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Zedd

"Pass the salt please son," my father ordered and I complied, as usual.

I passed him the white salt shaker across the oak table at which were eating dinner. My father, my mother and I. Just the three of us ever since Sammy left. And most of the time the conversation was bare minimum, or nonexistent. My father asked the usual questions about school and sometimes my mother about my friends. But usually she avoided thorny topics around my father.

"So," my father started as he cut his beef, well-done as he preferred, "How are your grades?"

"Still straight As," I replied smugly.

I could have lied, but I was smarter than I looked and actually had decent grades. Luckily for me or my father would have me whipped.

"Good, good," my father seemed pleased even though he asks me that question like clockwork and always gets the same answer.

"Soccer? Still smashing the others?" he moved on to his second-favourite topic, sport.

"Sure," I mumbled, crunching on a piece of lettuce.

"What do you mean, sure?" my father furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"Soccer is fine, as usual. But some of the other boys do as well as me," I tried to defend myself.

"Like who?" my father growled.

"Uh...well there's Mitch, and apparently a new boy is coming with a soccer scholarship," I replied, feeling the rising tension around the table.

"Mitch, that's your good friend from ages ago, isn't it?" my mum smiled at me and tried to calm the atmosphere.

"That's right," I smiled slightly at her...at least, it used to be right.

"That black boy isn't it? Well you should be better than him," my father grumbled.

"Why, because you think skin colour impacts game play?" I bristled angrily at my father's racist innuendo.

"Well," he replied, waving his fork around, "You can't expect him to have as much game strategy."

"That is bullshit!" I snapped at my father.

I knew my tone would get me into trouble but there was no way I was going to let him sit there and insult Mitch and every dark-skinned person on the planet. No fucking way.

"Watch your tone young man," he narrowed his eyes at me dangerously, "And I don't care if the new guy has a scholarship, you're not to let him take your spot as lead attacker."

"Yes father," I squeezed out in my best obedient voice and looked at the remains of my dinner.

I wasn't hungry anymore. And I'd had enough.

"I don't understand why you push me with soccer so much, when we both know you won't let me pursue a career in it," I spoke up.

"Of course not, but it's a good hobby to keep," my father rolled his eyes as if his reasoning was perfectly logical, "And Menz's always thrive to be the best in everything."

"Like you do with your business partners?" I said sarcastically but he missed the sarcasm and nodded in agreeance.

"I don't understand why you wouldn't let me become a professional soccer player," I knew I was poking the tiger but I couldn't help myself this time, my resolve had snapped.