21.

Corey kept his word and didn't act too differently in school.

This also had to do with the fact that Atticus and I were way too awkward to talk freely to each other while he was around now. Whenever we did talk in front of him, I felt him looking, I saw Atticus' cheeks flush because he obviously noticed too, and we'd quickly break it off.

"It's causing tension on the football field," Atticus admitted to me later, while we were sitting together in my bedroom.

I scrunched up my eyebrows. "Sucks. Does it affect how you play?"

"Nah, not noticeably." Atticus shoulders visibly rose and drooped as he sighed. "It's just annoying."

"Hey, you'll get through it. He'll come around because you guys are good friends. And things will be so different when my mom finally gets a move on and we're no longer livin' together." I paused. "And... maybe it'll help if I'm not a part of the football team, too?"

Atticus considered my words for a moment.

"I don't want you to stop playing because of this. But I don't think it's the sport for you," he finally concluded with a careful smile.

I laughed. "I know I suck."

"Hey, you don't suck, okay?" Atticus pointed at all my sketches I'd attached to the wall with tape. Some coloured and detailed, some vague and half-finished. Most of them were drawings of people in various styles. "You just never practiced football. The kind of discipline you show with your art tells me you would've been a great football player, had you been practicing it from a young age."

Even with the practice, I was convinced I'd still suck. Nevertheless, I smiled at the compliment and brushed my fingers against Atticus' upper arm.

"Thanks."

It was so cute how his cheeks flushed every time I touched him, even if it was just my hand on his arm.

"Keep coming to the gym with me, though," he said. "It's good for you, and with fitness you're only in competition with the you from yesterday."

I snorted. "Hah! At least there's someone I can beat in sports, then. So you're sayin': well, you can't compete with anyone else, but maybe you can compete with yourself!"

"Pff, I didn't mean it that way!" Atticus protested, picking up a pillow and hitting me with it gently.

"I know," I laughed. "Just kiddin'."

We smiled at each other. Then, the phone rang. Or rather, my computer did.

I looked over at my laptop screen. "Oh, that's mom! I forgot we were gonna call."

"That's alright, I can go," Atticus said. He'd already unfolded his legs and was halfway up from my bed when I grabbed his arm and gave it a tug.

"You wanna meet her?" I asked.

I saw Atticus hesitate, but much to my surprise he nodded.

"Uh, alright."

Atticus allowed me to pull him back on the mattress and stayed there while I grabbed my laptop from my desk.

"Ready?" I asked. Atticus took a deep breath and nodded again.

I pressed answer, and promptly Mom's ever-chaotic self appeared on the screen. Her hair was put up in a messy bun, and she smiled, making creases appear next to her dark blue eyes.

"Hey mom!"

"Hi, honey!" She replied. "And this is...?"

"This is Atticus," I introduced Atticus.

"Hello ma'am. It's nice to meet you ma'am," Atticus hastily and stiffly pressed out.

Mom chuckled. "Oh, relax, Atticus. This isn't the army. Call me Debra. It's nice to meet you."

Of course, Atticus didn't relax. He called my mom 'Debra' as she requested, but still talked in a weird blend of like he was answering a drill sergeant and like he was talking to the Queen of England, while Mom tried to make small talk.

I released him from his misery after a few minutes, reminding him that he had football practice (he didn't) and should probably get going.

Atticus jumped on the excuse and left the room.

When he was gone, Mom smiled widely. "What an adorable boy. But he's so nervous, bless him! "

I chuckled, not sure how to reply. I couldn't exactly agree out loud, lest my bloodhound of a mom would realise there was something between us. "Yeah, he's kind of nervous but he's alright."

"I'm glad to hear it! I was getting worried you know, after our last conversation.  I thought your stepmom and stepbrother weren't nice to you."

"They are, they are!" I assured her again, regretting my decision to ask her when she'd move all over again.

Mothers, especially my mother, could smell it when something was wrong. She guessed completely wrong as to what was wrong, but she knew something was up. I was sure of it.

"Well, I have good news anyway," Mom said. "Since I need to start working soon, I've decided to get used to the city a few weeks in advance and move into a hotel for the time being. You're welcome to join me there."

"That's great!" I replied. "Lookin' forward to seein' you here! I can show you around. I already found the best burger place in town, and I can show you my school. I know I described it, but then you can really see how huge it is!"

"So you're still happy at your new school?" Mom inquired for about the thousandth time. "How are things going for you and the football team now? With your ankle, and all."

"Uh..." I hesitated, wondering how to best tell her without triggering worried questions for months after. "I decided to quit. It ain't for me. I can't keep up with it, alongside everythin' else."

"Aww." Mom frowned. "Is it because you missed too much training? Because of your ankle?"

"That, too," I said.

Besides, football had completely missed its purpose. My original intention was to join the team to have friends and get closer to Dad. Neither of these had really worked out. The friends I had were mostly outside of football, even if the guys on my team were alright. Dad had briefly shown more interest in me by giving me a training schedule, but he and I both saw football wasn't working for me. I just wasn't interested in football and he wasn't interested in anything outside of football.

Mom's frown deepened. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay, honestly. I found plenty of friends in class, at the student council, and the theatre club. I have lots of people to hang out with."

I even found an amazing boyfriend.

"And you met someone, didn't you?"

"W-what?" I stuttered.

Mom grinned widely, leaning a little closer to the camera. "Don't try to fool your ol' mother," she teased. "I know that expression you just made. It's your swoonin' face. I wasn't sure before when were on the phone, but now that I see your face I am. You met a boy."

"There are thousands of students at Pinewood! I met a lot of boys," I tried to play dumb.

"Na-ah. You can't hide things like that from your mom."

Mom's beaming, proud smile was so infectious. I caved, and couldn't stop a wide grin from spreading on my face as well.

"Okay," I admitted. "I did meet someone. We're datin' now."

"Aha, and will I get to meet this mystery guy when I move there?"

My smile dropped a fraction of an inch. Mom had sharply guessed I had a boyfriend, but somehow completely missed he was just sitting right next to me. Which I was grateful about. I'd wanted Atticus to meet her, but not like that yet.

Thank God nobody expected two step siblings to date. It wasn't the most logical conclusion, which I guess is why Atticus and I have also eluded being discovered by Chiara and Dad.

"Uh, yeah. I'll see if that's possible," I said, deciding I'd figure out a way to handle things later. I'd have to discuss it with Atticus first anyway.

Thankfully, Mom didn't push it now. "Alright, love," she agreed. "Looking forward to it. Speakin' of meeting someone..."

Mom still smiled, but the twinkle in her eye was gone. "Is your dad home? I need to talk to him for a moment."

"Uh, yeah! He's downstairs. "I'll let him know you're going to call."

"Thank you, honey. Talk to you later? Love you."

"Talk to you later. Love you, too."

The call ended, and I let myself fall backward on my bed. "Shit," I muttered.

Corey was one thing. Given that Atticus even wanted to do it, how on earth was I going to introduce him as my boyfriend? If Corey, a friend, already reacted like this, how would my mom take it?