Page 8 of Made for Wilde

I close a few folders, confirming that everything is indeed where it should be, then shut the laptop with a sigh of relief.

“I owe you big time.”

“Actually,” Adrian says, “I was thinking we could grab dinner tonight. That new burger place downtown? I heard their wagyu blend is incredible.”

Sarah bounces on her heels beside me.

“Oh my gosh, yes! I’ve been dying to try their sweet potato fries. They dust them with this special spice blend that’s supposed to be amazing.”

They both turn to me expectantly, waiting for my response.

I glance at the clock on the wall and feel my shoulders slump.

“I can’t,” I say, gathering the last of my styling tools. “I’ve got to work at The Summit tonight. My shift starts at seven.”

Adrian’s face darkens immediately.

“The Summit? Again? Why do you keep working at that place?”

I slide my comb set into its case.

“Because they pay me?”

“It’s a dive bar full of sketchy guys who hit on you all night,” Adrian says, his tone shifting from friendly to possessive so fast it gives me whiplash. “That bartender with the beard can’t keep his eyes off you.”

I suppress a sigh.

This is becoming a pattern with Adrian.

One minute he’s nice and normal. The next minute he’s weird. We’ve only been friends for the two months since I moved to Cooper Heights, but lately, he’s been acting like he has some claim on my time. At first, having him around was helpful. The fact that his parents own the school means he knows all the shortcuts. So, I’ve been doing my best not to get on his bad side.

But this protective act is starting to grate on my nerves.

“The tips are good,” I say, zipping my styling kit with unnecessary force. “And I need the money for school. Not all of us have parents who own the place.”

“There are other jobs,” Adrian starts. “My dad knows someone at?—”

“I like this one,” I cut him off firmly. “The hours work with my class schedule, and my boss is flexible when I need time off for exams.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door, effectively ending the conversation.

I don’t need Adrian’s approval for where I work, and I’m too tired after bombing that test to deal with his attitude.

“I’ll text you later,” Sarah calls after me. “We can work on that extra credit this weekend!”

I wave without turning around, pushing through the double doors and into the hallway.

The cool air hits my face, and I take a deep breath, trying to center myself.

My apartment is only a fifteen-minute walk from campus. Sarah and I found the place just before classes started. It’s small and the water pressure is a joke, but the rent is manageable if we both work, and the location is perfect.

By the time I unlock our door, I have just enough time to shower and change before my shift.

I dump my school bags on the kitchen counter and head straight for the bathroom, peeling off my clothes as I go.

Under the lukewarm spray, I try to wash away the disappointment of that C-.

Mom would’ve known exactly what to say to make me feel better. She always did.