“Did you?”
I shook my head. “Not really. My dad and I always talked about me becoming an architect, and it sort of just clicked. When I was younger, I thought maybe I would end up joining the military like he did, but then I got a scholarship that paid for most of my first year here, so I ended up staying.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,” he said after a moment, and I nodded tightly.
“You know how it is to lose people you care about.”
“Your dad sounded like a good guy. My parents? Not so much,” Dillon replied dryly.
“Maybe, but you’ve got your brothers and sisters-in-law now.”
“True. And my niece.”
“I’ve seen the photos. Are they ever going to come here and visit?” I asked.
“Violet wants to, but Cameron keeps holding her back in case we get overwhelmed by the thought of a child or something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Tell them to come over. I want to meet this baby niece of yours.”
Dillon grinned. “She is fricking adorable. Somehow, we’ve become that scene from Sweet Home Alabama with a baby in the bar.”
I laughed outright. “They’ve got to start young, at least when it comes to working. Maybe not for the drinking.”
“Exactly. Seriously, though, I’ll tell them to visit. I know that Elise wants to show off my niece to the girls, and it’d be easier if we were all in one place rather than us trying to find time to make it up to the bar.”
“Whatever’s easier. But they would probably be more relaxed here.”
“Next time we all have time off, I’ll make it work. Thanks.”
I shrugged. “No problem.”
Miles and Pacey came back in, and we worked hard on dinner before moving to the living room to eat. We could have sat in the dining room, but we liked sitting on the big leather couches and relaxing. I ended up on the floor so I didn’t spill down my front as I was prone to do, but we were comfortable, all of us talking about school and work and women. Well, their women.
“You and Nessa doing okay?” I asked.
Miles shrugged. “I guess so. We’ll see.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but with the end of the semester approaching, and the two of them constantly circling around one another, I wasn’t going to pry. Much. I liked Miles. We were closer than I was with the other two roommates—though Dillon, Pacey, and I had grown together over the past year or so. It was odd since I wasn’t usually good at making friends. I was too busy working or dealing with my family to want that. And most of the people I hung out with always found it odd that I came from the town I did, and the circumstances of that.
We used to do better when we had full military pay coming in. It hadn’t been great, but it had been enough to get by. Then, when we lost that, the widows’ stipend or whatever the hell they called it wasn’t enough to do much. Mom worked sixty-hour weeks, and I was often left alone. I worked when I could when I was a teenager. And then when I hit college and found a job at the club, I’d been able to send more money back. Mom still didn’t know what I did, and she never would. I didn’t want to see the look on her face if she found out that I took off my clothes for money so my kid brother could have food.
I didn’t want the shame to creep over either of us.
That just reminded me that Natalie knew, and she hadn’t judged.
Why had I thought she would, though? She was a good person, but she also came from a far different family than I did.
Some part of me had just assumed that she wouldn’t want to be near anybody who worked in such a low-class establishment. At least, it was low-class to anyone who hadn’t been there before. I liked what I did—in the capacity that I was good at it, anyway. And I only felt shitty when I thought about what other people might think.
JC would kick my ass for saying that, though, so I had to be better about it. At least, marginally.
And I needed to stop thinking about Natalie. She wasn’t for me. She would never be for me. And the quicker I remembered that, the easier it would be for everybody.
I knew she hadn’t told the girls about what had happened. If she had, I’d have probably been punched in the face already. By which guy, I didn’t know. But it would happen. They were all dating members within the girls’ house, but that wasn’t for me. Natalie was sweet and fucking innocent—though I had taken that from her. Yes, she had given that to me, free of any strings, but I still felt those strings wrapping around my neck. They might not be from her, but they were there, ones I wrapped around myself.
“Why are you so serious over there?” Dillon asked, frowning.
I shook my head. “Just thinking about homework,” I lied.
“Did it help?” Miles asked, and I grinned.
“No, it’s not math or science, but good to know you’re there for me.”
“I’d be there for the math,” Pacey said with a laugh.
“Again, good to know.” I sighed. They all started talking about the end of the semester and what we had planned for the holidays. I just sighed. Sadly, the holidays meant I could make decent money at the club. Lonely people who didn’t have anyone to spend their holidays with always came in, and I made bank. No more ones. More like twenties and hundreds, as if they were ashamed to be there—or just lonely.
I’d have to deal with more propositions than ever, but that was fine. I was used to it.
Just one more semester after this, and I could get a real job. At least, I hoped. As long as nobody figured out what I did for a living now. One more semester and I could be a true adult and figure out the rest of my life. Only that life would not include Natalie Blake.
She wasn’t for me. I knew that. She had to know that. And the rest of our friends would surely know that if they ever found out what had happened in her room.
As long as I reminded myself that I wasn’t good enough for her, maybe I could stop dreaming about her. Stop wanting her.
The next time I saw her, I wouldn’t kiss her. Every time I was with her now, I wanted to kiss her, and that was a problem.
One I was afraid I would never be able to fix.
Seven
Natalie
I smiled as the professor droned on and on about my paper and nodded along, doing my best not to throw up. Not that the praise wasn’t lovely, because I had worked for days on that paper and was proud of it. No, it had more to do with the fact that I needed to literally throw up. Nausea crept over me, and I swallowed hard, that familiar warmth settling in my throat as I tried to hold back anything unwanted from making an appearance.
I could not believe I was about to throw up on my professor, but I wasn’t going to have a choice soon if he didn’t let me out of here.
“Ms. Blake? Are you okay? You’ve gone rather pale.”
I set my hand on my stomach and tried to give him a small smile. Only I couldn’t as I was afraid I’d vomit all over him if I opened my mouth.
“Ms. Blake?”
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, letting out a slow breath. “I’m not feeling well.” He blinked, seeming to get the message before giving me a quick shake of his head and scrambling back, leaving distance between us as if he were afraid I might vomit on his shoes.