Page 4 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

Colby

The large auditorium-style classroom buzzed softly with the rustle of notebook pages and the low tap of laptop keys.

I sat near the front, as I always did, my fingers curled around my favorite pen.

I’d found it in the clearance section. The pen itself was just white, but it had a little chubby bunny sitting at the top.

I had to press down on the bunny’s ears to click the pen.

It came in a pack with some other animals, but bunnies were my favorite; therefore, the bunny pen was the best. The cat one came in second place, though.

My eyes locked on the slides being projected at the front of the room.

It was a course on ancient civilizations, one of my electives that had absolutely nothing to do with my zoology major, but I’d fallen in love with it almost immediately.

The professor, Dr. Stratfield, had a passion for the material that was contagious and made class fun.

Even though I was running on fumes, I soaked up every word.

If you’d told me two years ago that I’d be attending a real university, I would’ve laughed—or cried.

Probably both. I was the first person in my family to attend college, and it wouldn’t have been possible without my scholarship.

I still felt out of place sometimes, with my discount clothes and ratty old book bag, and the need to rush to work right after class, but I was here.

I had earned this. I tried to remind myself of that often.

As Dr. Stratfield discussed the daily lives of ancient Athenian citizens, I scribbled a note in the margin of my notebook to try to find a documentary on the topic later.

My textbooks were all secondhand; some of them were held together with tape, but they were mine. Well, some of them at least; two of them I was renting. Every line I read was one more piece of knowledge I hadn’t had before. I loved that. I loved learning. I loved knowing.

When the lecture ended and the students around me began packing up, I stayed in my seat to finish jotting down a few last notes.

“Colby? Could I have a word?”

I looked up quickly. Dr. Stratfield had stepped down from the podium and was standing right in front of me, her smile warm but focused.

“Of course,” I said, a little breathless, already clutching my notebook to my chest. Hopefully, I hadn’t made a mistake on my last assignment.

She waited until the room had emptied out before continuing.

“I’ve been watching your performance so far this semester.

Your essays, your participation—frankly, you’re one of the best students I’ve had in years.

The majority of students who take this course are only interested in doing the bare minimum to satisfy their elective requirements.

But you’re always tuned in, always asking questions.

It’s honestly hard to teach when no one gives a shit about what I’m saying.

So firstly, I wanted to thank you for that.

Secondly, I was wondering if you would be at all interested in academic research? ”

My heart stumbled. “Oh! I mean… yes. I think so? I’ve never really had the chance to do any. And um… I’m glad you see me as a good student. I love your class, Professor.”

She smiled, a proud look on her face. “Well, it just so happens that an opportunity’s opened up on a volunteer basis to assist me with compiling sources for a project I’m heading.

It wouldn’t be paid, unfortunately, but it would give you valuable experience, and I could offer a strong recommendation letter down the line. ”

I blinked. “I… Yes! Absolutely. I’d love to!”

She nodded, satisfied. “I thought you’d say that.

But, Colby—” her tone softened, “—I happened to hear from one of your other professors that you’re working two jobs in addition to a full course load.

I’m sorry for butting my head in, but you’re such a bright student that it would really be a loss to our community if you burn yourself out.

The reason why I’m even bringing that up is that I wouldn’t be able to accept you for the volunteer position knowing that you can’t give enough of your time to it. ”

“Oh… I can’t really afford not to work,” I said quietly, mortified that apparently my professors knew how much I’d been struggling. I didn’t remember telling any of them about it. Maybe I had mentioned it in passing?

“Just think about it,” she said, not pushing, but obviously wanting a particular response from me. “Let me know by next Monday. And maybe talk to financial aid about some options, okay?”

I nodded slowly, still clutching my notebook like a lifeline. I had already checked with the financial aid office several times, but I guess she didn’t know that. The school was already covering a generous portion of my costs. It just wasn’t enough.

I left the room, speed walking to the nearest restroom in the Arts it looked like he’d been cut from his right temple to his cheek.

He gave a nod, snapping me back to reality. “Hello,” he said, his voice holding a light accent that I couldn’t place.

“Hey,” I replied breathily, my tone lifting without me meaning it to. “Welcome in. Do you know what you want, or do you need a minute?”

“I’ll just do a burger and fries. Or whatever’s easiest, I know you close soon,” he said quietly, almost as if we were conversing in a library. “And some water, please.”

“Burger, fries, and water,” I chimed. “Good choice.”

“Thanks, Colby,” he added with a smile, nodding at my name tag.

I blinked, hoping I wasn’t blushing.

I put in his order, and when I brought him his drink, he asked casually, “Do you work late a lot?”

“Pretty much every night,” I answered.

He nodded like he understood. “Well, Colby, since you must be an expert, which dessert should I order?”

“Oh, jeez. That’s hard,” I confessed. “My personal favorite is the chocolate pie, but there’s also brownies, vanilla ice cream, rhubarb pie, apple pie—which is my second favorite—lemon meringue pie, and sometimes we have stuff like cupcakes, but not tonight.”

He chuckled softly, “I’ll get the chocolate pie then, thank you.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring that out with the rest of your meal.”

He stayed relatively quiet the rest of the night, just watching a baseball game playing silently on the little TV in the corner, and thanked me each time I checked in.

The creepy guy in the booth eventually got up and left without a word, leaving two crumpled bills under his empty mug. I felt myself relax somewhat when the door closed behind him.

My shift wrapped up not long after. I bused the counters and wiped down the booths, my feet aching in my shoes, but feeling lighter than I had all day.

At the register, I found a twenty-dollar bill tucked beneath the blonde guy’s receipt.

I glanced out the window. He was already gone. I stared at the bill in awe, wanting to jump with joy. The tip alone was more than the actual meal had cost. I hoped he would come back soon so I could thank him.

I pocketed the cash and untied my apron, waving to Mae, who gave me a wink. “Get home safe, baby. I’ll see ya bright and early tomorrow.”

“I will. See you!” I promised, slipping out into the night air.

This time, the walk home was different. No footsteps but my own. No eyes boring into the back of my neck. Just quiet, calm roads.

I was crossing my fingers for a good night’s sleep.