“Well, you did notice his fly.  What were you doing looking at his crotch?” she teases.

I can’t stop the blush heating my cheeks.  She has a point, but I’m not admitting that.  “Give me a break!  His pants were super noticeable.  It was just right there!  I bet I’m not the only one who saw before I called him out.”

“Maybe…” she trails off.

“Okay, so maybe I was really immature about it, but for some reason he just rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Maybe you should get him to rub you the right way—“

Oh, I already have, Kels.  I already have.

“Fuck off.  Since I have to spend tomorrow and the next two weeks dealing with the repercussions, can we drop it now?”  I ask through her hysterical laughter.

Kelsey nods at me, still not composed enough to speak, and we sit companionably as she gets sucked into her show for the rest of our shift.  When the two night NOCs show up at eleven, we say our goodbyes, and I climb into my small Honda Accord.

My phone buzzes as I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex.

Can I come over now?

Wyatt.  I forgot I had invited him over earlier.  The text is a welcome surprise and I type out my reply.  Sure ill be ready in 30.

Unlocking my small studio apartment, I immediately head for the bathroom.  The room is one big open area with a kitchen off to the right of the door, my bed off to the left.  Straight ahead is one door leading to the bathroom and a small closet off to the right from the bathroom.  I have a small TV I found at a thrift store sitting across from my bed on a black dresser, also from the thrift store.  That’s pretty much it.

I stole my bed, bedding, and of course clothes from my mom’s house when I moved out, and everything else I owned fit into one small suitcase.  I haven’t decorated or done anything to liven up the place.  I don’t plan on being here long enough to care.

Entering the bathroom, I fling my clothes somewhere in the vicinity of my laundry basket and run the water for a quick shower.  Nothing is a mood killer more than the smell of old people, stale food, and dirty diapers.  I quickly soap my body and brush my teeth, quite aware that I’m going to get dirty again in a very short amount of time.

Slipping on a tank top sans bra and a pair of sweats, I heat up a bowl of leftover soup and plop down on my bed to wait.  It’s the only seating area in here besides a few bar stools in the kitchen.  Not ten minutes later, there’s a rapid knock on my door.

“Come in!”

Wyatt pokes his head through before slipping inside.  “Hey, Tate.  How was work?” he asks as he takes a seat next to me.  I turn to face him while slurping down the remnants of soggy vegetables.  Sexy.

“Oh you know, typical night.  What have you been up to?” I ask, setting down my now empty soup bowl on the floor.  I hope he keeps the chit chat to a minimum.  I’m beat and have school in the morning.

“Cole and I have been shooting some pool for the last couple of hours.  I’ve just been killin’ time until you called, but you never did.”

“Sorry about that, I kind of forgot you were coming over,” I tell him honestly.  The look of surprise on his face isn’t hard to miss and I almost feel bad.  Almost.

“Really?  I mean, yeah, you are pretty busy, huh,” he quickly recovers.

“School, work, sleep, repeat,” I laugh.  He leans into me, wrapping his arm around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him.

“You forgot Wyatt,” he says, before taking my mouth with his own.  We sink down in the bed together and get lost in our mutual distraction.

My alarm blares early, too early for how late I was awake last night.  Wyatt must have snuck out after I dozed off.  Normally, I kick him out, but I was so tired last night.  It’s nice to know he didn’t try to stick around.  I lie in bed for a few minutes, allowing myself to wake up fully before padding off to run a hot shower.

After I’m showered, dressed, and presentable, I leave my apartment to meet Emerson at the local coffee shop, The Jittery Bean, for breakfast.  It’s our ritual, has been since one of us could drive.  Once a week we meet before school to catch up and unwind.  Since I work most days after school, we don’t have time to hang out.  Sometimes, I wonder how we’ve managed to stay friends all this time.

I approach the counter, a semi-circle of lacquered hardwood lined with dozens of treats, pastries, and scones, and order a white chocolate mocha and a blueberry muffin.  With the crappy fuel injectors fixed on my car last week and not getting paid until Friday, money is tight.  And I know this, but it doesn’t stop me from eyeing the egg and sausage biscuits they have in a display case to my right.

“Would you like one?” the friendly cashier asks me, probably noticing the drool practically running down my chin.

“No thanks, just the coffee and muffin,” I tell her, slightly embarrassed.

“4.23 then.”  She’s smiling at me, but I can’t help feeling judged.  She must think I’m really poor or something, can’t even afford the breakfast sandwich I was staring at longingly.  I smile back at her, shoving a crumpled five dollar bill in her outstretched hand.  She gives me the change, and once my order is ready, I huff off to the back corner booth where Em is waiting for me.

“Hey girl,” she greets as I take a seat.

“Mornin’.”

“How was your night?”

“It was pretty typical.  Quiet for the most part.  What did you wind up doing?” I ask, while blowing on the rim of my mug.

“Not much.  I actually had homework last night!  Can you believe that?  English.  Some, what-are-your-goals essay.  Took me two hours,” she groans dramatically.  I can’t help but laugh

“I knew you’d hate that English class.  And Mrs. Bergson is a bitch, so you know.”

“Ugh, I know!” she exclaims.  “She already snapped at me for texting in class yesterday.  Threatened to take my phone away.  She’ll have to pry it out of my dead lifeless fingers first.”  She drops her head, shaking her platinum blonde curls as she sighs.

I startle as a figure steps up to me in my peripheral vision.  Looking up, I meet the dark brown eyes of Mr. Ryan.  He’s holding something out to me, wrapped in light brown paper.

“Um, yes?” I ask, completely bewildered why he’s standing over me like this.  He gives me a small smile, probably laughing at how ridiculous I look.

“I thought you might want this,” he says, gesturing to his outstretched hand.  I drop my eyes to the object, recognizing it as he continues, “I overheard you telling the cashier you didn’t want it, but you looked like you were going to break the display case to get one.”  The bastard is definitely laughing at me.

I don’t take the stupid breakfast sandwich from his hand.  Even though the smell is getting to me from the wrapper, and it smells freakin’ delicious, like warm heaven and gooey, melty cheese.  I’m definitely drooling now.  Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, and raise my eyebrow at him, sneering from the sandwich back up to his face.

“Trying to buy my kindness, Mr. Ryan?”

He shake his head, clearly not amused by my behavior.  “No, Miss Krause.  Skipping breakfast is bad for the body.  The repercussions include: lacking the ability to think quickly, low energy, and moodiness.  Seeing as I’m forced to spend not only one, but two class periods with you, I’d prefer if you were not cranky.”  He slaps the damn sandwich down on the table, and says, “See you later,” before retreating out the door.

“Ass,” I mutter under my breath as I watch him walk away.  I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to stay home the night my car broke down.  It would have saved me a lot of trouble.

Remembering I’m not alone, I look across the table to find Em staring with her mouth hanging open in shock.

“Who was that?  He was hot!”

Gag me.