"Bullshit."
He exhaled, ran a hand down his face. "What do I say? It's the same s**t. Unlike you,you get to study and also do football which I am surprised you could handle. But for me, I don't get that. My dad's breathing down my neck. He wants me out of here, Ryder. Wants me to quit everything, start training for the company. Says football is a waste of time."
I leaned against the wall. "You never told me that. You said it was about that heiress."
He shrugged. "Didn't think it mattered."
"Of course it matters."
He went quiet for a moment, then looked at me again.
"You're lucky, man. Your dad might be cold as hell, but at least he lets you breathe. Mine? He controls every breath I take."
I looked at him, then said quietly, "Then stop holding it in."
He frowned.
