I…I didn’t like the thought of that.
“Hey,” I whispered. The rest of the class was busy talking, as they usually did before the announcements, so I was reasonably sure they wouldn’t hear our conversation.
Archer turned those gorgeous baby blues on me, his expression unreadable. Either he was trying to give me the cold shoulder, or he was a hot and cold kind of guy. I wasn’t sure which one ticked me off more.
But enough about that.
“Let's say I need to make some quick cash,” I said once I had his full attention. “How do I do that around here without throwing my morals out of the window?” Yeah, I was sure there was one way I could make a lot of money…but selling myself for cash just felt dirty. Not against anyone who did the same for a living, but that wasn’t me.
Neither was hooking up with someone I’d just met, but Archer proved me wrong on that.
God, I didn’t know whether I liked this boy or hated him.
“Don’t you live with Oliver Fitzpatrick?” Archer asked, frowning slightly. I’d like to say his handsome face didn’t look so good while frowning, but that would’ve been a lie. Archer looked good no matter what expression he wore—a frown, a dimpled grin, his orgasm face…yeah, especially that last one. “I’m sure you could ask your sugar daddy for some money.” His voice actually sounded bitter, as if he was upset at the thought of me and Ollie.
Which, just, no. Nope. No fucking way.
Come on. Sugar daddy?
I instantly started to fume. This had to be Brittany’s doing. This whole school probably knew I lived in the Fitzpatrick’s house, and they either knew my mom was his maid or thought that I was banging him. Gross. He was like fifty years old—that’s a tad too old for me.
“He’s not my sugar daddy,” I muttered, wondering if that was why Archer was so upset. Had Brittany started rumors about me last week? Had Archer stumbled upon them and, worse, believed them?
Oh, that bitch. It wasn’t like me to want to get into catfights, but Brittany was making it hard.
“Then what is he?” Archer asked, eyebrows furrowing. Personally, I couldn’t tell if the boy was literally jealous or if he was just grasping at straws, any reason to be upset with me, to push me away after what happened between us.
“He’s…he’s—” I stumbled over my words, not exactly wanting to admit that my mom was his maid, his cook, his housekeeper—that he was the only reason we had a roof over our heads in such a nice town. Mom and I never could’ve afforded an apartment in Midpark, let alone a big, fancy house.
Archer’s frown deepened into a scowl, and he turned his head away. “That’s what I thought.” It was all he said to me, all he would say, apparently.
I settled into my seat, trying to hide my own frown. Knowing Archer was upset with me, knowing he thought I was with Oliver Fitzpatrick—as in banging that fifty-year-old dude—made me annoyed. First off, the only one I’d banged in Midpark was him. Archer, not Ollie. Secondly, we weren’t together, so technically it wasn’t any of his business who I was banging or not. Thirdly…thirdly, I just wanted things to go back to normal with Archer and I. His grins, his sarcasm, his laugh.
Was it stupid to miss his laughter?
Probably. The whole thing was stupid, because a girl like me could never get a guy like Archer. I’d been stupid to give into passion before, utterly naive to think that nothing would change between us afterward. This was what I got, what I deserved for being so foolish.
Ugh.
It just sucked, because I…in spite of it all, in spite of how annoying he was currently being, I liked him.
I liked Archer Vega a lot.
Chapter Fourteen – Jaz
Choir was…actually not bad today. We got to use the period as a study hall because the teacher had to go pick up her kid from the elementary—he got sick or something—and she was dropping her kid off at home and then coming back in. I wondered if all teachers got away with shit like that, or if it was just the choir teacher, because she kind of had her own hall in the back of the school, along with her own set of backdoors.
Bobbi sat next to me, working on what looked like math homework. She suggested we work on helping me and my lack of skill in reading sheet music, but right now it was hard for my mind to focus on anything other than the current obstacle in my life: money.
I needed money. Where the hell was I going to get it from? Now would be a really good time to magically come across a filthy rich friend or something.
I had a little over two days to get a grand. People around here probably shit out money like that, but for me, that was a lot. It was a lot, and I had no idea what to do.
My face must’ve looked perplexed, for Bobbi set down her pencil and asked, “Is something wrong? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine,” I said, albeit a bit too quickly. “I just…there’s a lot going on. I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet this week after school.”
Bobbi nodded, her highlighted auburn locks falling into her face, which she quickly tucked behind her ears. “What about this weekend? I could come over your house, or you could come over mine—”
Frankly, either one of those sounded miserable, but there was no way I’d tell her that.
“I’ll look at the sheet music when I can,” I promised. If all else failed, I’d just mouth along the words during our concerts…and fail the ‘tests’ Ms. Haber gave us randomly. She pulled three students from the general class, took them into her office, and made them sing a verse of whatever we were learning. If she didn’t hear you singing, then you automatically got a zero.
Ugh. I knew I should’ve just quit choir. More stress was the last thing I needed, and an F on my report card wasn’t a good thing. Mom would kill me.
“As long as you know your part by the concert, you’ll be fine,” Bobbi said, sounding sure of herself. “We still have three and a half weeks until then. That’s plenty of time. Maybe we can meet a few days next week.” Thankfully she didn’t push the whole meeting over the weekend thing, which was good, because neither one felt like an option. Not this weekend.
Not ever, really.
“Yeah,” I told her. “I’m sorry. This week just isn’t good for me.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.
Bobbi still stared at me, her hazel eyes practically peering into my soul, as if she could see that I was hiding something from her. “You know what else happens in February?”
Oh, God. Was there something else I had to prepare for, too? What more could there possibly be?
My face must’ve given my thoughts away, because Bobbi laughed. “It’s nothing bad. It’s not another concert or anything.” Her lips were curled in a smile. “The winter formal.”
Ah, a dance. Lovely. That was not something I would look forward to. In fact, that was something that Jazmine Smith would steer clear from until her dying breath. No dances for me. No disappointments for me, because surely there would be some. It wasn’t like any guy would ask me, and I sure as hell would never ask someone. I might be bold, but I was not that bold. I mean, look how Archer turned out. We’d fucked, and now he thought I was sleeping with Ollie, too.