Pucking Around With My Brother's Rival

Ezra's Pov.

I had exactly three rules whenever I was reading.

Nobody should disturb me.

Nobody should ask what I was reading.

And absolutely nobody should burst into my room like they were being chased by the police, that's why the loud bang that followed almost gave me a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ!"

My book slipped from my hand and landed on my chest as my bedroom door slammed against the wall. I jerked upright so fast I nearly headbutted my own knees.

For a second, I genuinely thought someone had broken into the house then I looked toward the doorway.

Of course.

It was Liam.

Who else would enter my room like a demolition crew? I immediately shoved my book beneath my pillow before he could see the cover.

Unfortunately, Liam noticed.

His eyes narrowed, then a grin slowly spread across his face and Liam's grin never meant anything good.

"What are you hiding?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"That was way too fast."

"Get out." The grin widened.

"Oh my God." I already hated where this was going.

"What?"

"Were you reading one of those dirty magazines again?" I slowly lifted my head and stared at him, which made him laugh. The idiot bent over and laughed like he had just told the funniest joke in human history.

I continued staring like trying to understand what's funny, his laughter gradually faded.

"Wow," he said. "That glare could kill people."

"Keep talking and you'll find out."

"Violent today, aren't we?"

"Keep talking."

Liam raised both hands. "Fine. Relax."

I grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him anyway. Unfortunately, he caught it. The smug bastard showing how fast his reflexes were, perks of being athletic.

"Violence," he said, shaking his head dramatically. "This is abuse."

"I support it."

"Good to know." He tossed the pillow back onto my bed before making himself comfortable in the chair beside my desk.

I narrowed my eyes.

That immediately made me suspicious, Liam never entered my room voluntarily.

Well, that's not entirely true.

He entered my room all the time, usually to annoy me. But whenever he sat down on my bed, it meant he wanted something and I already knew I wasn't going to like it.

"What do you want?" I asked.

Liam placed a hand over his chest.

The drama king. "Maybe I came because I wanted to spend quality time with my little brother."

"You're lying."

His offended expression lasted approximately two seconds, then he shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little."

"A lot."

"You wound me."

"Get to the point." He sighed dramatically before leaning back. For a moment, neither of us spoke, then I picked my book back up and pretended to read.

I wasn't actually reading anymore.

It was impossible to focus with Liam sitting in my room, his presence alone was distracting. The guy somehow carried…. Umm I don't know how to put this or the right word, but he carries something around with him wherever he goes.

Meanwhile, I preferred the peace of being alone, surrounded by books while munching on my favourite snake on my bed.

That was enough for me.

But Liam was the exact opposite, he loved crowds, noise, attention. He loved being the center of every room he walked into, I honestly had no idea how we were related. The only thing we really had in common was our appearance, same dark hair, blue eyes and sharp jawline.

People constantly said we looked alike.

Personally, I thought they needed glasses. Our personalities couldn't have been more different if we tried.

"You know," Liam said suddenly, "Mom and Dad are out of town tonight."

"I know."

"They won't be back until tomorrow."

"I know."

"My playoff game is tonight.” There it was, the reason he'd invaded my room.

"No." I shook my head immediately.

"I haven't even asked yet."

"You don't need to."

"Come on, Ezra."

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"You want me to come to your game."

He blinked. "Okay, maybe you do know."

I rolled my eyes, Liam had been trying to get me to attend one of his games for years. Years…..and every single time my answer has been exactly the same.

No.

I hated hockey.

Actually, hate was probably too strong a word. I didn't hate the sport itself, I hated everything connected to it. Most importantly, I hated what it represented.

Growing up with Liam wasn't easy, not because he was a bad brother.

He wasn't.

Honestly, Liam was probably one of the best brothers a person could ask for.

He looked out for me.

Defended me, helped me whenever I needed it. But the problem wasn't Liam, the problem was everyone else.

Especially our father.

My father adored hockey. And because Liam was practically hockey royalty at school, he adored Liam too.

Again, not intentionally.

I knew he loved both of us, but sometimes love wasn't enough. Sometimes people still had favorites even when they didn't mean to.

Liam was athletic, popular, confident and charismatic even. He was captain of his school's hockey team, the kind of student that teachers loved and even the town adored him.

Then there was me.

I liked books.

That was pretty much it, books and quiet places. While Liam spent weekends training, I spent weekends reading. While Liam collected trophies, I collected novels. While Liam enjoyed being surrounded by people, I actively avoided them.

According to my father, I wasn't reaching my potential. I had lost count of how many times he'd compared me to Liam.

Why can't you be more outgoing? Why don't you join a sport? Why don't you try harder? A bunch of why's.

Look at your brother. Look at Liam. Look at what he's accomplishing. Look at Liam.

Always Liam.

Always hockey, always reminders that I wasn't enough. Maybe that wasn't what my father intended, but that was how it felt. And eventually I started associating hockey with every disappointing conversation we'd ever had.

Which was exactly why I refused to attend games.

I had no interest in spending two hours watching a sport I didn't enjoy while everyone around me treated Liam like a celebrity.

"No," I repeated.

Liam groaned. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

"It would mean a lot to me."

I snorted. "You literally say that every season."

"Because it would."

"No."

"Ezra."

"No."

"Ezra."

"No."

"Ezra."

I picked up another pillow, and he immediately raised his hands. "Okay, okay."

The room fell silent for about ten seconds, then Liam suddenly sat forward. A dangerous look appeared in his eyes, I unfortunately knew that look.

That was his bargaining look.

Whenever Liam got that expression, someone was about to lose.

Usually me.

"What?" I asked cautiously.

His mouth curved in a line that I never had liked. "What if I offered you something?"

"No."

"You don't even know what it is."

"If you're offering money, I'm not interested."

"It isn't money."

"Then definitely no."

"Wow."

I shrugged, he studied me for a moment before speaking. "What if I took over your chores for a month?"

I froze.

My eyes slowly lifted from my book. Liam's smile widened, the bastard knew he had my attention.

"A month?" I asked.

"A whole month."

I narrowed my eyes. "Everything?"

"Everything."

"Dishes?"

"Yep."

"Laundry?"

"Yep."

"Vacuuming?"

"Yep."

"Taking out the trash?"

He visibly hesitated. "Yes."

I sat there silently.

For the first time since he'd entered my room, I was actually considering his offer. A month was a long time and it meant an entire month of freedom.

No arguments with Mom about whose turn it was to vacuum, that sounded suspiciously amazing. Liam leaned back with the confidence of someone who knew he was winning.

Unfortunately, he probably was.

I hated how tempting the offer was, my brain was already calculating the benefits.

Thirty days.

Thirty fucking whole days, that was basically a vacation.

"You look interested," Liam said.

"I'm thinking."

"That's dangerous."

"Shut up." He laughed, I hated that he seemed so confident. Because the worst part was that he was right, I was interested…very. I mean who wouldn't be?

Still, I couldn't give in immediately.

I had standards, at least a few.

"What exactly do I have to do?" I asked.

Liam's smile became victorious. "Come to the playoff game tonight."

"That's it?"

"That's it." I stared at him, and he stared back.

I hated this.

I hated how reasonable the deal sounded. And most of all, I hated the fact that I was probably going to say yes.

Because unfortunately for me, I really hated chores too.