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HANNA
18 Years Old
I leave my dorm extra early to make sure I have time to stop in the quad for coffee before my first class at eight. My roommate is a nightmare and came barreling in drunk off her ass at three o'clock this morning, just to suck some guy's dick right next to me. It was glorious.
It's still warm here in September, but the early morning air is crisp and comforting and somehow reminds me of home. Home doesn't sound half bad right about now. At least I wouldn't have to watch my roommate sleep with a different guy every night.
There's a little coffee shop inside the student center, but this one is a little trailer that parks right here in the quad. It's just better, in my opinion. It's locally owned, and my parents always drilled into my head to support local businesses, so here I am.
I walk up to the barista, Karly, and she waves sheepishly. She's basically my best friend here, we study together and sometimes eat dinner. She works here on the days she doesn't have class.
"Hey," I smile, handing her my reusable cup.
"Jameson Banks came by here yesterday," her smile spreads across her face as she pours my drink.
"He paid for your coffee indefinitely, left it open as a running tab."
"Who did what?" I ask, still trying to comprehend what she said.
"The quarterback. Surely you've heard of him. He knew who you were."
The pretty boy jock that couldn't catch a damn football yesterday?
"That's fucking weird. I'll pay for my own coffee."
She laughs, tightening her ponytail holder, "He said that you would say that. He wanted me to tell you he used his scholarship money."
Oh, hell no.
I yank my coffee from Karly's hand, basically running across the quad. I'm going to find that asshole and give him a piece of my mind.
"Mommy," Ellie whines, jerking me from my daydream. It's almost noon on a Sunday, and we are still walking around in our pajamas. I can practically hear my mother's judgment. I love her to death, but her constantly trying to parent Ellie is why I moved back here to Savannah. I am so thankful for her help with Ellie while I finished school, but Ellie is mine, and things are different from twenty years ago when I was Ellie's age. So different.
Ellie slept until nearly eleven. We stayed up super late placing everything strategically in her backpack for school tomorrow. She is so excited, and honestly, I'm glad she's finally going to get to learn some new things. She's always been brilliant, and the daycare she's been at can't keep up with her. Honestly, she's bored.
"Can we make biscuits and gravy?" She asks, kicking her blanket off of her lap.
"I guess so. Go get your apron."
Her smile spreads all the way across her little face, her dimples nearly making me melt. She loves to help cook. Her easy bake oven is her most prized possession.
I pull the flour from the pantry and a mixing bowl from the cabinet, and Ellie is right at my hip, ready to go. I pull her hair up into a messy bun and kick her step stool over to the counter so she can help.
Her busy little hands are moving a mile a minute as she sings "How Far I'll Go" from Moana. It's her favorite movie, and every time I take her down to the beach, she insists that I call her Moana, and boy does she have an imagination. I laugh to myself as I belt the chorus out with her.
The doorbell interrupts our song, and I wipe my hands off on a kitchen towel, throwing it over my shoulder.
"Ellie Bear, don't try and put those biscuits in the oven. I'll be right back."
"Okay, Mama!" She yells, and I make my way to the door jerking it open, only to slam it right back shut.
Jameson.
No. No. No. No. No.
I panic, opening the door back slowly.
"Sorry about that, I uh… I wasn't expecting anyone."
