He shrugs. “No, not really. My dad is generally a good guy. The problem is how I’ll feel if I don’t measure up.”
“You’re kidding, right? Beau… you shouldn’t be competing with your father’s past. Play the game for yourself or don’t do it at all. You won’t be happy, otherwise.”
He side-eyes me. “How’d you get to be so fucking smart?”
“Take it from someone who has competed against herself for years. It’s way more satisfying to beat yourself than it is to beat someone else.”
“You’re right. In the back of my mind, I know that’s the approach I should take. It’s just hard when I’ve got people who want to get in good with me because of who he is instead of who I am. It’s all about what I can get for them. Does that make sense?”
“It does. And I take it back. You shouldn’t tell me to fuck off because I have all the wise words tonight. But you should totally tell those entitled asshats who ask for shit from you to take a flying fucking leap.”
He nods, grinning at me. “Damn, you’re hot when you get riled up.”
I shrug one shoulder. “I can’t help myself. You deserve better than what those people are asking of you.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Not probably. Definitely. So the next time someone asks you for shit, you’re going to tell them what?”
Beau slides me an amused smile. “Fuck off.”
“Right. Because I’m Lyla Taylor and I say so.”