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I shrugged, defeat flooding back into my chest. “I know, but I don’t want more loans. I have enough of those.”
“I could help?”
“Ugh, Maeve, we can barely afford the house that we live in. There’s no way you can help me pay for college too.”
“I’ll sell my body to the night,” she joked, giving me a soft laugh. “Though really, maybe we could do a fundraiser or something. You’re an amazing pianist and singer—maybe we could arrange a concert.”
“Yeah, and then no one would come,” I snorted, trying to make light of a truth that actually really burned deep down.
“Maybe…Tyson could—”
“No,” I cut her off, my tone sharper than I meant it to be. “I will not mooch off them or use the relationship you have with him to help myself. I don’t want handouts, and I don’t want someone to pity me. It’ll be fine. I’ll just teach until I can figure something else out.”
Maeve sighed, her smile turning downward. “I just want you to have everything you want, Lena. You’ve worked so hard, and it hurts to see money being the only thing that’s standing in your way.”
“That’s the way life is for most people,” I reasoned, forcing a smile. “Not everyone is like Jackson Whiss, raised by a billionaire and then making his own fortune with his band—which I’m sure his dad helped happen.”
“You don’t know that happened,” Maeve said, taking offense.
Jeez, this new boyfriend might cause some problems.
“Okay, well, it’s just a guess,” I said. “He is super talented, but it wouldn’t be surprising if his father helped him get seen by the right people.”
“Yeah, that could be true,” she finally agreed, picking up the receipt. “This one is on me.”
Ugh.
“You don’t have to do that,” I reasoned, reaching for the ticket to take it from her hands. “I’m not that poor. I can afford to eat—I just can’t afford school.”
She eyed me, holding it out of my reach. “I don’t care. I’d have gotten it today anyway. I feel extra generous today.”
“If you say so,” I teased her, watching her hand the ticket and her card to the waitress. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, BFF.” She shot me one of her infamous winks. “Do you want to go to the band practice with me? They practice for a long time.” She giggled.
“I think I’ll pass today,” I laughed, shaking my head. “And no, it’s not just because of Jackson Whiss. I’m just giving some private lessons this evening, so I can’t.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved me off, pushing some of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear. Honestly, my best friend was model gorgeous—and she always had been. It had helped carry her in life, mostly just because she knew how to use it to her advantage. She was killing it at the modeling firm she worked for, and I believed it wouldn’t be long before she moved from catalogue modeling to something much bigger.
“Are you bothered by the idea of paparazzi? You know, because of Tyson…” I blurted out as we stood to our feet.
She made a funny face. “Girl, I was made for the spotlight. I say, bring it on. Granted, I didn’t really want to make my debut in the spotlight as arm candy, but it’s worth it. He’s even planning to take me to the red carpet this weekend—and I am stoked.”
I nodded, my own mind going wild. Would I be okay with that kind of spotlight? There was a time when I’d considered pursuing a music career similar to Jackson’s, but I had walked away from it when I realized that I didn’t like all the eyes on me.
Which was why I had chosen to teach.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maeve asked as we stood to our feet. “You just seem like you’re not in a good headspace right now. You’re always so bright and positive. I feel like you’re struggling.”
“You should’ve been a therapist,” I joked, grabbing my water and taking one last drink. I glanced down at my watch, my heart sinking. Oh shit. “I’m already late. I really gotta go. Have a good time this evening and thanks for lunch. Love you.” I gave her our usual side-hug embrace, and she kissed my cheek.
“Go kick some ass in the classroom,” she called after me as I nearly ran right out of the restaurant.
I spotted my silver Hyundai a few feet away and picked up my pace. I pulled out my cell phone, scrolling to Melissa, my boss’s name. I hit the call button just as I stepped off the sidewalk, noticing a white piece of paper under my windshield.
I plucked the paper up as the phone started to ring. You have to be kidding me. A seventy-five-dollar parking ticket?
“You better be calling me from the classroom,” Melissa hummed, her voice harsh on the other side of the phone.
