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“Within reason,” I warned. If I didn’t put some kind of boundaries up with him, the idiot would take advantage of being my sibling every chance he got. I knew better than to give him that kind of power.
His grin widened, which wasn’t reassuring.
“What’s your real job?” someone shouted.
“I’m a mathematical engineer,” I replied.
“What does that mean?”
That was a fair question, and I took a moment to formulate the best answer. My actual explanation would’ve taken twenty minutes and probably would’ve required a whiteboard.
“It means I help build things using numbers and mathematical equations,” I said finally. It was simplistic as hell, but sufficient enough.
“Sounds hard.”
“It can be.”
“What kind of things do you build?”
“Rocket ships and equipment for NASA,” I replied and waited for the response because I knew it was coming.
For a heartbeat, the entire group fell silent, and I could see them trying to process that information. Fortunately for me, I was used to this. People always reacted a certain way when I shared that.
When the shock broke, their reactions hit all at once with several variations of what the fuck, someone loudly accusing me of lying, and a chorus of questions I couldn’t begin to separate. I grinned because there was no denying just how proud of my job I was.
“You’re serious, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“So, you’re an astronaut…”
“No, I’m a mathematical engineer,” I corrected. “And while I’m completely fascinated by space, I’m not sure I’d ever want to go into space. I think I prefer learning about it from here and staring up at the stars.”
“So like we could ask you space questions?”
“Any time you want.” Hopefully, I wouldn’t regret giving them that permission.
“How much older than Jude are you?” someone asked, changing the topic.
“Twelve years,” I said. “He was an accidental vacation baby.”
“Hey!” Jude protested. I glanced at him, cocking a brow. He looked genuinely offended despite having heard this information his entire life. Our father found a way to remind him of it at every single birthday dinner, like clockwork. It pissed me off. While I could tease him about it, the way our father brought it up wasn’t funny. “I’m a happy accident.”
“Debatable,” I said, mostly just to pick on him. A few guys laughed while Jude made a dramatic face. Good. The more they laughed, the more comfortable they were. That meant we were getting somewhere.
“It’s like looking into Jude’s future!”
“I’m better looking than Jude will ever be, so no, it’s not,” I replied. Again, mostly to poke fun.
That earned another louder laugh. Jude shouted something obscene that I deliberately ignored, but I couldn’t help the smile on my face. This part was easy–the jokes, the laughter, the questions that had nothing to do with football. The real problem was sitting right next to Jude.
Theo hadn’t said much, but he was watching me closely. His expression had been unreadable since my announcement, and every time my attention drifted toward him, I found myself trying to decipher it—trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Was he pissed? Or hurt? Did he understand already what this meant for us? He had to. Theo wasn’t stupid.
I dragged my attention away from him before I gave anyone a reason to notice one player mattered more to me, attention-wise, than everyone else.
“What’s your favorite movie?”
“That’s an easy one. Star Wars,” I answered without hesitation. That one was a no-brainer. “Empire Strikes Back is easily the best of the franchise, followed by A New Hope.”
