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Just a Formality
Roxy
“I hate football,” I grumble over the ruckus of my dad and brother shouting at the TV. I don’t see what the big deal is. A bunch of guys kicking a ball across a pitch and running after it, trying to score. Doesn’t sound that exciting to me. I must be missing something, though, because Dad and Liam are both howling and bellowing at the screen as if their lives depend on it, a cold beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other.
“You just don't get the game,” my brother chastises as he mellows out a notch.
Dad casts me a warm smile over his shoulder. “You know, more and more women are getting into football, pumpkin. You should give it a go.”
Liam snorts. “Yeah, right. Girls don’t even understand what’s happening on the pitch. They're just here to watch the players’ arses. Disgusting.”
I try to hold back my laughter but fail miserably. “Because you’ve never checked out a girl’s arse, Liam?” My brother is currently seeing three girls. Simultaneously.
“That’s different. I’m a lad of twenty-two,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Oh, because that gives you some kind of right? You know what, I’m tired of these double standards. Maybe you should focus on getting an education instead of screwing half the campus.”
I refrain from punctuating my point by rolling my eyes, instead turning the pages of my fashion magazine. Ugh, my brother can be so thick. I sometimes wonder how we can even be related.
“Settle down, both of ya’. Trying to listen to the commentary,” Dad grumbles.
Right, because it's so interesting. The announcers are just spewing off a bunch of names. But that definitely beats talking to your only daughter, who you haven't seen in two weeks. Despite my annoyance, I keep quiet and go back to page-flipping. I really wish I'd checked whether a game was scheduled before coming over. I used to, but I've been swamped at work, and Dad has been pestering me to visit for days.
Fifteen minutes later, halftime rolls around, and the Grant men finally come back down to Earth.
“Sorry, pumpkin. How’s work?” Dad asks, grabbing a glass of water and sitting across from me.
“It’s all right, I guess. They started on the September issue last month. So, things are getting competitive again, you know . . .”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Already? We’re only in April.”
“Yeah, but it’s the biggest issue of the year, so it takes time.”
He rubs his chin “That’s the one with the contest for the cover, right?”
“Yup, the one I’ve never won and never will,” I say, closing the magazine with a soft sigh.
“Never say never. You’re a talented writer, Roxy. They could still give you the cover.”
“Dad, they don’t give anything to anyone. You win the cover if your cover story and model outshine the others. But without celebrity connections, it’s almost impossible.”
“Just keep working hard, and you’ll get it.” That’s my father’s motto. He’s not wrong, but sometimes, life is a little more complicated than that.
I shift in my seat, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, I have a couple of days off. Karl is coming back tomorrow! Can you believe it? Our place is all set, and we’ll be moved in by the weekend.” After all this time apart, all this time longing for his touch, I can’t believe I’ll finally be wrapped in his arms and tasting his lips on mine again.
Dad’s eyebrows furrow. “Oh, right. Already?”
“He’s been gone ten months, Dad!”
“Oh, I didn’t realise,” he mutters.
“We’ll invite you over soon. We just need to settle in first.”
“Well, okay, then. You let me know if you need help with anything.”
“Thanks. But I think everything will be fine now.” Because my boyfriend, who’s also my best friend in the entire world, is coming home. “Anyway, I’m going to get going. Second half is starting soon, and I have to be up early tomorrow.”
