“Have you started working on your assignments for the paper?”
“Nope. I start tomorrow, actually.”
“That’s cool. Are you into sports?”
“Not even a little.”
“Not even looking at hot guys in uniforms?”
“My ex is a basketball player. My ex before him was a baseball player.” I shrugged. “I’ve had enough jocks for a lifetime.”
“Well, la di da. Not all of us can be as cool as you, Mae.” The twinkle in her eye would have made me laugh if it didn’t look so . . . off. Again with the jealousy. “I’m into jocks myself, but I’m also a biker kinda girl.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met one,” I said. “A biker, I mean.”
“My uncle’s in a club. He’s actually touring the US with them right now. They lost one of their members and went to spread his ashes.”
“Someone you knew?”
“Yeah, Uncle Pete.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s a big family.” She smiled sadly. “Uncle Pete wasn’t really my uncle. Not by blood anyway.”
“I can relate to that.”
My father had a long line of cousins that weren’t related by blood, but by association. People his parents had known since they were born, and by default, I had a long line of cousins as well. Most of whom I hadn’t seen in years, but they were still family.
“Anyway, my dad was never around and my mom was always working, so I was mostly raised by my grandmother and uncles. Riding on the back of the bike feels like home to me.”
“That must be hard without your dad.” I offered a small smile. “But your uncles sound fun.”
We kept talking about family and comparing notes. By the end of the conversation, we couldn’t deny the fact that we were from entirely different worlds. Suddenly, when all of the little things I’d taken for granted growing up were made blatantly obvious. I felt beyond spoiled. Not that Hailey’s family wasn’t doing well for themselves, they owned a handful of businesses, but it was the complete opposite of my family. Sure, we’d all been working summer jobs in Dad’s television networks since we were old enough to, but it was only on his insistence. He didn’t want us to grow up and act like spoiled brats. Our jobs were always an illusion though, a distraction, something to keep us busy and remind us where we were headed in the future. It wasn’t like any of the money we made went to actual bills. Most of the time that money couldn’t even afford us anything in our closets. And ultimately, that was what it taught the four of us—we’d never be as comfortable as we were outside of the family business, because at least if we took a job there, we’d always have a credit card that paid for all of the high-ticket items we were accustomed to. Branching off on our own would mean no credit card and no free spending.
But here was Hailey, working her way through college, and there I was, complaining about my role in the stupid school newspaper because of course, I thought I deserved better. Maybe I did, but Hailey wasn’t the person I needed to vent to. Celia, maybe. Lincoln, maybe. Hailey? No.
“Well.” Hailey’s gaze followed the movement behind me. “Your friends are here.”
I frowned as I pivoted around on the stool. My gaze landed on the same four guys from the other day. I gave each of them a once-over. When my eyes met his, I froze, wishing I could turn around and pretend I’d never looked over in the first place, but I wasn’t going to be the first to break contact. The alpha in me wouldn’t let me. Besides, the way he was looking at me, like he could tear through me without permission, made me want to prove him wrong. He broke first, because his friend slapped his arm, pointing toward a booth they’d found. My eyes followed their movement and I watched him pick the side to sit in, the one that gave him full vantage of my seat. I turned around, drained my drink and stood up.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“No, but I want to switch seats. I don’t like that my back is facing the door.”
“Hm.” Her lips pressed together as she nodded. “I can’t turn my back to anything anymore with all the mass shootings, though from this angle, I’d probably be shot straight in the chest.”
Her comment gave me pause. I stared at her, horrified for a moment as I picked up my bag. It wasn’t an odd conversation to have. Unfortunately, things like mass shootings happened and since we’d reached the point that the average person knew someone or of someone who’d been personally involved in one, conversations about them were at a peak. The casual way in which we spoke about it didn’t make it any less weird though, as if it was just one more obstacle we had to hurdle over. As if it was the norm. By the time I was sitting down on the other side of the bar, away from wandering eyes, my mood had soured entirely. Lana had disappeared from this campus and that hadn’t been a shooting. Someone had taken her without consent. Someone kidnapped her and in turn, she’d vanished without a trace.
“Are you afraid of anything?” Hailey asked, spinning around to where I was.
“Definitely shootings,” I said. “And confined spaces. I hate confined spaces.”
“Yeah, those suck.” She looked up and walked over to a new customer.
I looked at my phone and saw a text from my brother.
Linc: Stay away from all of those people. This is not a drill.
My eyes stayed on the words as if they were going to rearrange and change into something else. This is not a drill is something we started saying to each other as kids—when our parents were walking to our rooms and we knew we were going to get caught on a late-night phone call, when our brothers were closing in on us playing spies with our walkie-talkies, when we had a boyfriend or girlfriend over and were in our rooms while our parents were out and they were getting home. This is not a drill was serious.
The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle as I felt a presence looming behind me, so I clicked the side button on my phone and glanced over my shoulder. It was the rude guy I’d bumped into—Fitz was what Hailey had referred to him as. He took a seat beside me. I tore my gaze from his and noticed his left hand was covered in a white wrap, blood seeping through the bandage where his knuckles were. My eyes snapped back to his.
“Let me guess, someone bumped into you and made you angry.”
“Are you stalking me now?” His lips curved.
“Don’t you wish.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a beautiful girl followed me around.”
“Rest assured. This beautiful girl will never follow you around.” I stared at him. “Why did you come over here? Did you get tired of your agreeable minions?“
“I don’t have minions, I have friends, and they’re not as agreeable as you think.”
I leaned forward, setting my elbow on the bar and resting my chin on my hand. “Did you come over to apologize to me for being rude?”
“I wasn’t the one who bumped into someone without looking.”
“What a crime.” I cocked my head, my hair cascading over my left shoulder with the movement. “You did bump into me on purpose the other day though.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that.” He raised an eyebrow.