Page 161 of His Reckless Freshman

I swallow and avert my gaze back to the bar. It seems safer than watching her pretty face.

“How do you know I didn’t choose to leave high school? How do you know that working this bar isn’t my dream job?”

Resting her forearms on the bar, she leans down to try and capture my eye, but I keep darting my gaze away as I mumble, “I don’t know any of that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t.”

I make the mistake of glancing at her.

Why is she smiling at me?

Shouldn’t she be telling me to take my foreign ass and get lost?

“But your assumptions aren’t all wrong,” she admits with a soft sigh.

“Hey, Alex,” a man from the table behind me hollers. “’Nother round, baby. Let’s go!”

I look over my shoulder in time to see him wiggling his empty glass in the air. “Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t you make me wait.”

A soft sigh escapes her, and my eyes quickly travel back to her as she forces a smile at me and pours another round of drinks.

“If you could go to college, what would you study?” I gently ask her.

She keeps her glare trained on the beers she’s pulling and stiffly replies, “It’ll never be an option, so why waste my time dreaming about it, you know?”

For some reason, her answer makes my chest hurt, and I want to reach across the bar and brush my fingers down her arm, or maybe lightly squeeze her wrist, just offer some form of encouragement to show her she’s not alone.

Seriously. I don’t know what is possessing me right now. Girls usually scare me, but this one… it’s like I’m caught in her tractor beam or something. I want to stand up, slap the bar, and tell her it doesn’t have to be that way. “I’ll pay for you. I’ll make your college dreams a reality.”

But instead, I softly murmur, “How old are you?”

Her lips twitch as she places the last glass onto what’s going to be a heavy tray, then looks at me. “I’m old enough to not be a dreamer anymore. And since Saturday last week, I’ve been old enough to drink at this bar.” She smirks and winks at me.

And I can’t take my eyes off her as she carries that tray of drinks like she’s been doing it for years. Her pigeon arms take the weight like it’s no big deal, and when she reaches the table, she manages to balance the thing like a pro and pass out the drinks while five guys who are probably old enough to be her father drool over her like she’s some hooker who wants to show them a good time.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” One of them slaps her jean-clad butt and I flinch, narrowing my eyes at the guy with the chunky fingers.

She jumped when he touched her, and it looked like a hard smack. It probably stung her backside, and she’s obviously not happy about it, but she doesn’t say anything. Collecting their empty glasses as quickly as she can, she ignores their leering gazes and drunken slurs until one of them tries to feel her up again.

“Quit it,” she snaps, moving her hips so he can’t go in for another squeeze.

“But you got yourself such a cute little ass,” one of them drawls, and they all crack up laughing.

These idiots are at the reckless drunk stage, and she should seriously not have to put up with that. I scan the bar for her boss—who I’m hoping is some burly guy with a baseball bat who won’t put up with shit from customers—but he’s at the other end, laughing with two guys. He’s either oblivious to Alex’s plight or he doesn’t care.

I try to get his attention, but he glances my way, follows my head tip to the handsy table, then gives me a pointed look like “So? It’s her job.”

Well, screw that.

I stand up, scowling at him, although he’s not even paying attention to me anymore.

When the guy right next to Alex wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, I can’t take it anymore.

“Let me go, Hal.” She strains away, and he gets her cheek as a blinding rage sweeps through me.

Storming up to the table, I snatch his arm and wrench it away from her. “Hey! You deaf? She said let go.”

And like some scene from an old Western, the bar suddenly goes quiet, every single eye in the room landing on me. Every single gaze silently asking me what the fuck I’m doing and who the hell do I think I am.