Like Dragonflies - Page 6

“Sounds fancy,” Hank jests. His belly jiggles when he laughs at his own joke and tries to mimic me in a prissy voice. “A little java place on campus.”

Darcy and I both flip him off.

“I hate to say it,” she says, “but how?” If her brows furl any closer together, she’ll have a unibrow. “It took the sheriff vouching to a friend of his at that college for your skinny ass to even get enrolled. Now you’re telling me you’ve gotten yourself a job there too?” She huffs. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’re leaving Duncan and moving away to Ashton Hills for good.”

If I wasn’t a broke-ass ex-criminal, I’d have gotten the hell out of here a long time ago.

“Just trying to get my shit together.” I flash her a wolfish grin. “Until I turn twenty-one and force you to hire me.”

She’s not amused. There’s a worried glint in her blue eyes. “Mars…”

“It’ll be fine,” I say lightly. It has to be. Slowly, I will crawl my way out of this hellhole of a town.

“Long drive for a fancy java job,” she mutters, her voice already giving in to defeat.

“I’m only scheduled on my class days, for now.”

She lets out a heavy, resigned sigh. “Fine. Go on and get out of here before you’re late. You better let me know how it goes.”

“Yes, Mom,” I tease.

Before she can swat at me, I hop the bar again and slap Hank on the back on my way out. Once out of the stuffy, yet familiar bar I’ve practically grown up in, I inhale the cool October air. My rust bucket sits crooked and barely within the lines. I try not to think about how worn the tires are or the fact the alternator decides to be a finicky asshole at the worst possible times. Instead, I try to think of what’s ahead of me.

Twenty minutes from this shithole is a new life.

A life I’m slowly trying to learn and embrace.

Busier. Fancier. Faster.

But no one knows me there. I can be whoever the hell I want.

Climbing into my truck, I turn the engine and thank fuck it starts. After surfing the few stations my radio will pick up, I settle on some classic rock. Led Zeppelin blares through one speaker as I drive through our one-stoplight town and merge onto the highway. All I have to do is make it four years. Four years on my dad’s hard-earned dime. Then, I’ll have a degree. I can get a job that’s worth something. I’ll be worth something.

The drive turns somber and I try not to think about my dad. Last night we tied it up in the living room. He may be a mean-ass drunk, but he’s still young. And all those hard shifts at the steel mill have him bulkier and fitter than me. When he wants to make a point, he makes said point with his fists. I can’t help but touch the tender, slightly bruised area below my eye, hoping like hell it’s not obvious.

As the college comes to view on the highway, my anxiety amps up. Dave Murphy, my new boss, assured me my record wasn’t anything to be worried about. My crimes, albeit many, were only misdemeanors. He told me as long as I showed up, and didn’t steal from him, I’d be better than half the employees who have come through his shop.

I’m a firm believer of “don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Otherwise, I’d have bitten the fuck out of Dad long ago.

I drive past a group of girls walking near the English building and a few turn to point, giggling. That’s the shit I hate. In this rich college town, everyone is loaded. I kind of stick out like a sore thumb. When I’m in class, most people don’t pay much attention to me. It’s just getting to and from in my piece of shit truck that draws their eyes my way.

Ignoring the girls’ stares, I park my rust bucket and hurry to class, where I spend the next ninety minutes trying not to fall sleep as the English instructor rambles about Robert Frost.

After a long day of classes and studying, I leave the media center on a trek back to my truck. Now that it’s dark, no one is out to witness the way my truck rumbles and whines as I try to get it to start. Thankfully, on the third attempt, the engine fires up and I head for the other side of campus. Looping around the back of the main building, I find a parking spot. I climb out and make my way to a door marked “employees only.” Dave gave me a code, and after fucking it up twice, I finally manage to key it in right and make my way inside.

Tags: K. Webster Romance
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