“You’ll pay for this,” she hisses, as I plaster a smug smile onto my face and open the door to welcome our guest.
“You must be Carter. Skylar’s told me so much about you.”
Carter’s face flushes beet red, as my daughter appears from behind me.
“Come on, I don’t have all day.”
“Oh… Sure, I…”
“Please, come in,” I say, gesturing for him to step inside. “My mum’s made apple tart.”
“Is that really necessary?” Skylar asks, already pissed off.
“Do you like it?” I ask him, ignoring her.
“O-of course, sir.”
“Sir?”
He nods, nervous.
“You can call me Coach Kerry.”
“O-okay.”
“Do you play?”
He stares at me in total confusion. “Nintendo or PS4?”
I burst into laughter as my daughter’s face turns purple: ironically, her least favourite colour.
“I meant sport.”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever played GAA?”
“Never.”
“Are you done?” Skylar groans.
“You should give it a try.”
“I don’t think I’d be very good.”
“How do you know that if you’ve never tried?”
He shrugs uncomfortably. My daughter takes this opportunity to grab the boy by his jacket and yank him behind her.
“That’s enough now, Kerry.”
“You’re right, sorry. I’ve kept you too long, and you kids have to study.”
“We’re going upstairs.”
“You could use the living room instead?”
She glares at me.
