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CHAPTER1
HAILEY
Eighteen hours of coursework this semester plus a full-time job. It was going to be rough. But I could do it. I’d survived worse—I supported my mom right out of high school when she got cancer and took her to every appointment and treatment myself. If I could handle that while I was scared out of my mind that I was going to lose her, I could manage a coursework-overload and wait tables at the same time.
I compressed my classes into four days a week, so I had three full days to work plus a couple of night shifts a week, too.
“Whoa. That looks like the Periodic Table or some crap from high school. What are you writing?” my bestie, Maria, asked.
“This is my class schedule for the semester that starts tomorrow, and this is me figuring out which shifts I can work here so I can have a roof over my head and electricity.”
“You are gonna burn yourself out with those hours. Damn. Eighteen? I thought max was sixteen.”
“Fifteen for undergrads, but I got my advisor to sign off on the overload. I’m way behind, Maria. I just finished my first year. Most people in my field have a master’s degree and two or three years’ experience by my age.”
“Well, maybe they didn’t take time off to keep their moms alive, Hailey,” she said. “You should be proud of that, and not stress out about what you ‘should’ be doing at twenty-eight. Hell, I’m twenty-eight and I work here. I’m saving for a trip. That’s about as far ahead as I like to think,” Maria said cheerfully. My best friend was the perpetual free spirit type.
“I want to double-down and finish my bachelor’s, and pay as I go so I don’t spend the next decade funneling my salary toward student loans. That’s why I worked and saved for ages to have enough to pay for my classes and books and stuff. Thank God I’m not in STEM. The lab fees are murder.”
“So, you could sell a kidney,” she joked. “Your mom’s been in remission for like three or four years. You worked three solid years to save money for college and you’re not even going to let yourself enjoy it. This is why I hate capitalism.”
“If it wasn’t for capitalism, we’d both be out of a job,” I teased, and she laughed., bumping her hip into mine.
“Looks like you’re in my brother’s class,” she said, “if he’s too tough on you, I’ll tell you the story about how he wet the bed at summer camp.”
I glanced down at my schedule. I’d been too busy looking at the time slots to pay much attention to which professor was teaching the section of each course I was enrolled in. It looked like Ricardo Esperanza’s name was right there beside one of my classes. I felt a flutter. I swallowed, not wanting to betray the little shiver I got when he crossed my mind. I’d known Rick for ages. I’d crushed on Rick for ages.
Right then and there I decided that I would choose a seat in the very back of his class. That way I could focus on the material and I wouldn’t be staring at the man like a creeper during class time. As deadly serious as I was about finishing school as efficiently as possible, making good grades—even I wasn’t immune to a man like that. A seat near the front of his class with a clear view of his dark good looks could really distract a girl. I’d worked too long and hard for this opportunity to let a distraction derail all my plans.
CHAPTER2
RICK
“Why did we choose this place again?” Hamilton asked, indicating the packed in crowd.
“It was close to campus,” I reminded him.
“The wings are unbeatable,” Aaron added.
“It’s so loud,” Drake remarked.
“You’re so old,” Aaron shot back. “The noise didn’t bother you before you married out of the club.”
“Maybe you’re full of shit, or maybe having a wife and baby at home makes this scene a lot less appealing,” Drake said. “Maybe it’s maturity.”
“Maybe you should make sure your dentures are in right, old man,” I joked. “I think that Luke probably makes as much noise as this whole crowd.”
“Says the man who got him a drum for his first birthday. Thanks for that, by the way,” Drake rolled his eyes. “You should see him with it. He thinks he’s so big when he bangs on that drum.”
“That’s because I’m a wonderful godfather,” I bragged.
“I’ll remember that shit when you have a kid,” Drake threatened.
“Preston has a CocoMelon toy that plays the same song over and over. I’ll trade you for the drum,” Hamilton offered Drake, who shook his head.
“God, I miss CocoMelon. It’s Blippi now, and Blippi is fuckin’ annoying,” Kyle chimed in. “I try to get the twins to watch Bluey—it’s got great messaging and the gender roles are more equal—but it’s Blippi 24-7.”
“What in God’s name has happened to them?” Aaron asked, turning to me.
