Waves Of Love [Completed]

t w e n t y f i v e

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Chapter Twenty Five.

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*•RILEY'S POINT OF VIEW•*

"Can you explain to me why you two are always in some sort of argument?" Mom asked as soon as I entered the house. "Why is your brother sulking upstairs like a six-year-old?"

This had always been the pattern Ryan and I followed. He fucks up with his overprotectiveness, I get mad at him, he sulks, he then apologizes and promises to never do it again, I forgive him, and the cycle starts over and over again.

When we were kids, I used to admire how protective he was of me. No boys ever had the guts to be mean to me, they all knew I was Ryan's sister.

Now it feels like I'm locked up, like I'm never going to be able to spread my wings and do whatever I want.

I never had a rebellious phase where I went to parties and had drunken one night stands for the hell of it, all because I was afraid of how Ryan would react.

Don't get me wrong, I love my brother to death, but sometimes he can be a bit much.

"I don't want to talk about Ryan," I said, taking a seat on the couch and turning on the TV and launching Netflix.

I scrolled through the shows, deciding on continuing F.R.I.E.N.D.S. It was my comfort show.

When I was fourteen, I would get my laptop and write e-mails to Rachel, Monica, and Phoebe. Telling them all about the boy drama I had, pretending they were the older sisters I never had.

I bet I can still find those drafts.

Mom sighed, walking over and sitting next to me. "What did he do now?" she asked exasperatedly.

She immediately knew it was Ryan who fucked up, not me.

"He whacked Leon in the head with his crutch when Leon opened up to him about us, and guess what? He fractured his skull!" I said, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling mad all over again.

"My best friend and my sister, I cannot believe this!" Ross exclaimed in the show, how ironic.

I paused the show, feeling my eyes tear up at how mad I was at Ryan. Why can't I have a normal brother who doesn't have anger issues?

Mom's eyebrows raised in shock. "Oh dear," she said. "You know what? Maybe I should get him to go to those anger management classes your dad went to."

I looked on the ground, remembering dad's anger issues.