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I glance back at him.
“About what?”
“About that thorough fucking you need.”
My lips part as he stalks towards me before standing uncomfortably close. He bends down until we’re eye level with each other. “You get to assume shit about me, well allow me to join the party because clearly, you don’t accept my apology. That chip on your shoulder isn’t sexy, at all. There’s a tiny division of men who will jump through hoops to try and get past it, but they aren’t going to entertain your attitude long. Loosen up, Priss, or you’re going to find yourself with your own shitty reputation.”
“Says pot to the kettle. Stay out of my way, Prescott.”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
“Don’t bother with the pleasantries now, you basically just called me an uptight bitch.”
“If the Nike fits.” Like an idiot, I glance down at my solid hot-pink Nikes before I catch his smirk.
And with that, he makes his way towards his bag.
Lance
At the ATM, I enter my code for cash only to get rejected a second time. Slapping the side of the machine in aggravation, I lower my head and let out a slow breath, knowing the culprit.
“Hey, man, you done?” I glare at the asshole behind me, who clearly decides not to give me the moment I so obviously need.
“Fuck off,” I grumble, punching in the numbers again, deciding to check my balance. Nineteen dollars minus the three fucking dollars it cost me to check my balance. I have sixteen dollars to my name. Gaping at the total, I dial my dad as I walk away from the machine with my cell to my ear.
“Hey, son, I was just talking to Pete about you.”
“Dad, where’s the money?”
“Yeah. About that, son, meant to call you. Pete gave me a good deal on a few heifers and I needed to borrow a little.”
“A little? You wiped me out!”
“I’m sorry, son. I couldn’t pass it up. I’ll put it back by the end of the week.”
“You can’t just take it, Dad, it’s my money.”
There’s a hesitation. I know I’ve embarrassed him, something I never want to do to the man who’s given me everything. “It’s a loan, son. Temporary. I swear, I’ll replace it. Just give me a few days to move things around.”
I pace the parking lot. “Fine. But a heads-up would have been nice.”
“It’s just temporary.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me just tell you about what I’m working with,” there’s an uncomfortable edge to his voice, one I’m all too familiar with. It’s the same tone I’ve dealt with for the majority of my life when he wheels and deals, doing his best to make ends meet. He got us through those times and he’ll get us through this, I just have to be patient. But it doesn’t change the fact that my stomach is growling, and I have no solution.
“I gotta go, Dad. I’ll call you back.”
“All right, son. Don’t worry. Leave that on me.”
“Sure. Bye.”
“I love you—”
Guilt shadows the anger knowing I’ve hurt him by cutting him off. I order an Uber, knowing the commute home is going to wipe me out. In the back of a white Taurus, the driver, Dave, makes polite conversation with me as I fume in the back seat. Though the ride is costing me, I need the bag right now a lot more than I need a meal. I need the release. Thanking Dave, I shut the door and approach the gym, knowing I just have to hang on a few more seconds. Opening the door, the smell of the sweat-infused pleather equipment brings me comfort the way it always has since day one.
“Mr. Prescott, we’re waiting,” Mrs. Sheffler prompts me expectantly as all eyes in the classroom dart my way. It’s the last thing I want.
