“Not like this. And not for a while. Jesus. The ball whisperer.” “It’s genetic, you know.” He slides a look at me, then glances around. Closest other person is over ten feet away, loading up another truck. “Soccer?” he says flatly. I smile. “Whispering to balls.”
I’m about to fucking throw up lunch. Why do I HATE this so much? Why is this novel so cringey and bad? How did Pippa Grant fool me with one incredible book, only for every one I’ve read after to be a dud??
