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CHAPTER SIX

GARY

I spent most of the weekend trying to make up for missing class.

I sent emails to my professors apologizing, giving them a little white lie that I was sick.

I figured no one would look too closely.

Easton thought I was sick. And none of my professors seemed to care.

They each told me which pages they went over so I could write notes on my own.

One was even nice enough to send me the lecture notes they’d used in class.

I locked myself in my room and studied hard to make up for the loss, and by the time I arrived in class on Monday, I felt confident I could keep up with the new material.

Easton was already there, which was surprising. He almost always arrived late. But he was playing on his phone, one foot propped on the desk, his hood up and hiding half his face. It wasn’t until I sat next to him that I noticed the bruise on his chin.

“Oh, my god. What happened? Are you okay?”

He looked up, surprised and confused for a second, before he realized what I was referring to. He waved my concern away.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt. Did you choose a topic for the group project?”

Nibbling on my lip, I had to work to tear my eyes off the bruise. It was bright purple and black and looked really painful. The look he gave me said to leave it alone, though, so I put it out of my mind, frowning at my notebook.

“Yeah, a few ideas. I’m not sure when you’re free, but–”

“Any weeknight. Tonight is fine.”

Luckily, weeknights worked for me too. Early mornings were for my part-time job, and I usually studied during lunch, so I could make weeknights work easily enough.

“Okay. Tonight works for me. Did you want to meet at the library? We can go right after class if you want, or after dinner if you’d prefer.”

I was raised to be accommodating, and I didn't mind pushing my studying until later if he wanted to meet right after class or something. Whatever he wanted.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, drawing my attention to his mouth.

The only distraction from studying I’d had that weekend were thoughts about him.

And daydreams. And dirty dreams. I was surprised I could keep myself together enough to talk to him like a normal person right now.

There was just something about him that drew me in. The confidence was hot.

“After dinner. If I’m late to a meal, Coach won’t feed me.”

I tipped my head, my brows drawn together. “Coach?”

He didn’t really seem like a jock to me, but it was rude to assume. Looks could be deceiving. People used to think I was smart enough to do their homework for them in high school, only to find out later I was barely pulling in B’s. It pissed off a lot of people.

“He’s a friend of mine.”

He was cut off before he could continue when the professor called the class to attention and started the lecture.

I took careful notes, still agonizing over the test I’d bombed the week prior.

Luckily, the professor hadn’t graded them yet, so I had at least a few more days of blissful ignorance before I got the grade back.

Easton got a phone call right as we were leaving class, so I couldn’t say goodbye, but I saw him at our next class in the afternoon.

He was always on his phone, so when the teacher called on him and he gave the correct answer with a lazy sort of drawl, it surprised everyone.

She looked irritated and asked him to put his phone away, but he took it back out a few minutes later.

I got the feeling he might be a secret genius.

I needed full focus to keep my notes organized and my grades up.

If I played on my phone, I wouldn’t hear the lecture at all.

When the class was dismissed, I was going to confirm with Easton about meeting in the library, but this time it was my phone that interrupted us. He gave me a mock salute on his way out while I fished my phone out of my pocket, but paused when I grimaced at the name on the caller ID.

“Sorry. I need to take this. I’ll see you later.”

I hurried out of the room and into the hall, putting the phone to my ear as I searched for an area with some sort of privacy.

“Hello?”

“Took you long enough,” Brienna snapped. “Where’s my money?”

She didn’t even pretend to care about how I was doing or anything like that. Her callousness didn't surprise me anymore. I stopped in a near empty hallway, leaning against the wall to listen to her.

“How much again?”

She’d called last week, but I had just bought the last of my textbooks, so I didn’t have anything to give her. I had asked her to give me some time to get my next paycheck. She hadn’t been happy about it, and apparently, her patience was running out.

“Like a hundred. You know what, make it two. I need new shoes.”

No, she didn’t. She had dozens. She just liked taking my money.

My older sister had been my bully since I was born.

She was the golden child, got everything she ever wanted and got away with murder.

Meanwhile, I was the cast off, the accident.

When I was younger, I used to fight against her, saying it wasn’t fair when she took my toys or my allowance.

My parents called me spoiled and demanded I give in to her. It stopped being worth the fight.

“I don’t have that much right now. I can send the one hundred.”

“No. You can send me two,” she demanded. “I waited long enough. You’re just stalling. I know you work part time. You can afford it.”

I wasn’t sure how she figured that out. I distanced myself from my family the day I left. I probably should’ve cut them out completely, but then I’d be all alone and the thought scared me. Part of me hoped with some time apart, they’d realize they loved me and would change their ways.

Trying to convince her I was telling the truth, I repeated, “I don’t have that much right now. I spent most of my savings on housing and a meal plan. The rest went to textbooks. I’m just starting to–”

“I don’t care about your excuses, Gary! Send me the money!”

She hung up before I could even attempt to argue with her.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled up my banking app.

One hundred and forty-six dollars and fifty-three cents.

I was saving for next semester’s textbooks.

Even if I drained my entire bank account, it wouldn’t be enough for her.

I sent her the one hundred, hoping she’d get the rest from our parents, but I should’ve known better.

I didn’t even make it across campus before my mom called me.

“Hi, Mom…”

“Why are you bullying your sister?”

A familiar indignation swelled in my chest, but I shoved it back down. Arguing never did me any good. It only made things worse.

“I’m not. I just don’t have that much money. I spent it all on housing and stuff. If she could just wait, I get paid on Friday, but I can’t give her what she wants right now. I sent her what I could.”

My mom made a tick sound behind her teeth, obviously annoyed with me. “You’re lying. You’ve been working for years before you left for school. Why do you insist on upsetting her?”

Yes, I worked. And most of it I had to give to my parents, who charged me rent to stay, or my sister, who used me as her personal ATM.

They tried to convince me to stay so they could keep using me, but after turning twenty-three, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I applied for student loans, scholarships, grants.

Anything I could think of. I’d rather have tons of debt than be stuck in that house any longer than I had to.

It took a year of planning, but I finally got out.

“Mom–”

“Get her the money by Friday. She needs it more than you do. And don’t bother coming home for break. We’re going on a family vacation.”

A family vacation that didn’t include me. Even after all this time, it stung.

“Okay. I–”

She hung up without a goodbye, and I let my hand drop away from my ear. My vision blurred as I fought back a wave of tears. Would I ever be enough for them?

I let myself wallow for a few minutes before tucking my phone away and rubbing my eyes roughly. Taking in a steadying breath, I decided to go straight to the library. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I’d skip dinner tonight.

I turned, nearly colliding with Easton, who stood a few feet away. His eyes studied my face, his brows drawn together like he couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. I felt myself flush, taking a step back to put more space between us.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” he replied. “Why’d you give in? They can’t do anything to you.”

Lifting a shoulder, I walked toward the library.

Easton fell into step beside me, his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket.

I was a little jealous of that sweater. It looked warm.

Most of my clothes were old and worn, or gifts from extended family who didn’t really know me.

I appreciated it, since my parents stopped bothering to buy me clothes in high school, but they weren’t really my style.

I wasn’t the collared shirt, knitted sweater kind of guy normally.

“It’s my family.”

That term stung a little. Some family. They’d rather I be broke and under their thumb than thriving and happy.

Easton grunted, and a quick peek at his face didn’t really give me much to go on. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He probably thought I was pathetic for giving in all the time. I felt pathetic sometimes.

“You hungry?”

Frowning, I looked up at him. “Um… No, not really. I was just going to go to the library and get some studying in before we met up.”

When his gaze shifted to look at me, I wanted to get lost in those emerald green eyes. Which, of course, made me blush and look away. I really was an awkward loser. I wouldn’t get a date in the next century if I kept acting like that.