Taking a deep breath, I steady myself before entering the office, plastering a smile on my face.
“Hi,” I say in my politest tone to the secretary at the desk. “There seems to be something wrong with my ID.” I hold out the flimsy piece of plastic to her. “I tried to get into the dorm, and it wasn’t working.”
“Hmm.” She pushes bedazzled glasses up her nose. “That’s strange.”
She takes my card, turning it this way and that. She slides it through something that looks like a credit card swiper, a puzzled expression on her face.
The door opens behind me, bringing with it a hint of expensive cologne.
I don’t turn to see who the newcomer is, but I feel the presence behind me like whoever it is commands attention from the very air of the room itself.
The secretary squints at my ID and starts typing on her computer.
“Oh,” she whistles lowly, “honey.”
It’s not a good “Oh, honey.” It’s the kind of voice adults use when they’re about to deliver devastating news.
Her hesitant eyes flicker to me. I hate the pity I find on her face.
“What’s wrong?” My stomach sinks, waiting for the blow.
She clears her throat. “Sweetie, your term hasn’t been paid, so technically you’re not a student anymore.”
My blood turns cold. “What do you mean?” Panic snakes through my veins.
What does she mean it hasn’t been paid? I’m here on scholarship. Where did the money go? This is my senior year! I’m supposed to be graduating in a few months!
“It seems like your scholarship was pulled unexpectedly.”
“Wha-? How? How does that even happen?”
“It can be for a number of reasons, sweetie.” She winces, not meeting my eyes. “Unless it’s paid in full by Friday, there’s nothing we can do, and until it’s paid you won’t have access to your dorm.”
“But all of my things are in there!” I protest. “I’m a senior! I need to graduate!”
I thought fainting dramatically only happened in movies, but I start to feel light-headed, swaying on my feet. Then again, the lack of food might have something to do with it.
“Like I said—”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” I snap, my entire world crumbling around me.
There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to get the full payment for my final semester. There’s a reason I’m a scholarship student. Aldridge caters to the kids of the rich and famous, not people like me from backwoods Georgia who grew up with nothing.
Aldridge University was my chance to escape working at the local Piggly Wiggly or gas station like the rest of my family. Heart-stopping panic squeezes my chest, tears stinging my eyes, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going to have to go back, and my sister can gloat all about how she knew I’d fail.
“Just look at you, you’re not cut out for that life.”
I wanted to have a career in communications and Aldridge was the biggest stepping stone to getting there, not only for my degree, but for the connections that I’ve built over the past three and a half years.
Now it’s all being flushed away because for some insane reason my scholarship has been pulled without explanation.
“I never got a letter,” I blurt at the lady. “No one notified me my scholarship had been pulled.”
She clacks on her keyboard some more and tells me a date when the letter was mailed.
I close my eyes, thinking of the smug way my sister acted over the entire break.
She got the letter. She knew. She fucking knew and didn’t say a word. She was probably buzzing with excitement, waiting for me to have to come back so she could wave the piece of paper in my face.
Blood or not, I hate that bitch.
“I see. Thank you for your help.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I think she truly means it. She narrows her eyes on whoever is behind me. “Teddy McCallister, have you lost your ID again? This is the fifth time this year!”
“Aw,” the voice behind me cajoles, “Mrs. Jostin, it’s senior year, I’ve gotta set a record.”
Shaking myself free from where I’m frozen to the floor and blocking him, I turn around, and finally face the guy who’s listened to the entire woes of my predicament.
Teddy McCallister.
Campus heartthrob. Player. Life of the party.
I’ve personally never met him, only heard of him and seen him around campus. Like always, I’m taken aback by his clear jungle-green eyes. They’re bright and glittery emerald jewels. If it wasn’t unfair enough for the guy to have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, they’re also framed in the longest, thickest set of lashes. Not to mention, he’s gorgeous. The kind of handsome that’s somehow both classic and wholesome. Sharp brow, angular cheekbones, cut jaw. He’s the epitome of hot. Stubble coats his cheeks, and his brown hair is unkempt in a purposeful way. He reminds me of a young Luke Perry. Rest in peace. Thanks to my mom I had a crush on the 90s heartthrob from a young age. I’ve watched the entire show at least ten times in completion.
He’s studying me with astute eyes, but an easy-going smile. It’s a weird combination and I stare back with a narrowed expression, wishing I could read his mind.
Mrs. Jostin clears her throat. “Teddy?”
I break eye contact first, and duck my head, shuffling out the door as quickly as I can.
Away from his scrutinizing green-eyed gaze, I inhale a breath, letting reality sink onto my shoulders.
What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck. Am. I. Going. To. Do.
I’ve always been level-headed, excellent at keeping common sense in situations, being the voice of reason, but right now I feel nothing but blind panic. I waitress part-time to supplement what my scholarship doesn’t cover, but it leaves little left for me to save, so what I do have in savings is only a few thousand dollars. It’s basically pennies compared to a semester of tuition at this school, and I know there’s no way I’ll qualify for a loan.
I allow myself another full minute to freak out internally in the hallway before I force myself to leave. Outside, the cold crisp winter air slams into my face, reminding me how tired I am from my drive. Now, I don’t even have a dorm to sleep in—one where all my stuff is, except what I packed for break.
The first tear falls, then right behind it an entire torrent.
Oh, God. How embarrassing?
There’s a bench nearby and I scurry over to it, parking my ass so I can have my breakdown in relative privacy.
I dig through my purse, searching for a tissue. I find one at the bottom, but it’s got a piece of gum rolled into it. Ugh.
My coat sleeve will have to do.
Sniffling, I wipe at my face, wracking my brain for some kind of solution.
I could always become a stripper. I mean, I’m far from skinny, definitely over-weight, but all girls are beautiful, and I have decent boobs. I don’t think my stretch marks would scare the menfolk too badly.
But I can’t dance.
Like at all.
Not one iota of rhythm in my body.
I blame my dad for that fact.
So yeah, stripping is out. I might be able to bartend at a strip club, the tips would probably be way better than my waitressing job at The Burger Palace. I don’t like showing a lot of skin, it’s personally not my thing, but I am not above showing off my boobs if it gets me the money I need.