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I hurried to the door and opened it, turning to back through and make sure it was locked behind me. Hopefully Galen would be gone when I returned later.
The hall was filled with men that I pushed my way through as unobtrusively as possible. While I didn’t think they would be a problem, I did not want any of them to pay too much attention to my comings and goings. With any luck, they would just think I was making the traditional walk of shame.
Still, it might be wise to figure out when the hallways were least congested. I could see the school getting its panties in a wad over me living with guys… maybe even going as far as to take the grant away.
I would have to be careful.
Class was a bore, but then I had already covered most of this material in an earlier class at Columbia. I was stuck repeating a couple of courses that had not transferred over because the program differed just slightly, but I’d still graduate on time, thank God. I would be a very well-studied linguistics scholar when I was finished.
Too bad that didn’t mean a job was guaranteed. Instead, I could only cross my fingers and hope there would be one waiting when I did graduate. My initial goal had been to get my graduate degree and then my doctorate in classics and classical languages, and then go on to attain a professorship. I had dreamed of teaching Greek or Latin, studying and translating ancient texts the world over, or even working as an asset on archaeological expeditions. I did not have the time or funding to do that now, not unless I was able to work a decent position while I was getting the extra degrees. Necessity, that bitch, dictated that I complete my degree and take care of Eleanor.
Graduating with a bachelors in classics would mean entering the job force with a broad theoretical foundation but relatively little practical experience. I’d have to cast a wide net, looking into working with ancient texts, law firms, museums, and libraries. I loved the degree I’d chosen, but I’d never realized the job market would be so daunting without the ability to continue learning and narrow its focus.
It was times like this that anger at my father welled up and threatened to suffocate me with its intensity. His greed had destroyed our family. Wreaked havoc on our future.
This was my only class for the day, and the afternoon spread out before me. It was more time than I usually had, but busy still with everything I wanted to fill it with. I needed to buy groceries and had work this evening, and somewhere in between those two activities I wanted to take a run and start work on a paper. I would have to make lunch fast.
I grabbed coffee and a bagel at one of the many cafés on campus. As I sat and ate, I checked my phone, more out of habit than with any real expectation of messages. The only people I received texts from these days were Eleanor and Jake, the bartender at Sugar Babes. My old friends had disappeared within the first month of Father’s arrest and conviction.
No messages.
I flipped through my various screens, trying to look busy and involved and not-lonely. I was alone by choice. I liked being alone. It gave me a chance to recalibrate, let stuff sink in. People watch. Over the top of my screen I eyed the bustling, chatty crowd in the cafe, the girls in their leggings and messy buns, the professor types with their bulging bags and briefcases, the harassed-looking barista behind the counter.
There was nobody else alone.
Who was I kidding? I hated eating alone. I was awkward enough to feel like everyone was staring and wondering why I was a pariah. Or maybe they already knew exactly who I was, maybe the news of my father’s ignominy had reached even Chandler University, hundreds of miles away, maybe—
I put a mental hand up to halt my rambling thoughts and took a puff on my inhaler.Nobody cares.The truth was glaring, humbling. I was one inconsequential person among thousands on this campus. I could reinvent myself and no one would even notice. Hell, I had reinvented myself. I was no longer that Columbia girl with a wallet full of Daddy’s credit cards. I was a pink-haired waitress-slash-bartender in a breastaurant with actual bills to pay.
With a sigh, I stood to leave. I had too much stuff to take care of to sit and reflect on this crap all day.
My, how the mighty had fallen.
Chapter 5: Ezra
She was never freaking here.
I grumbled to myself as I walked into the kitchen later the same week, totally scratching my balls after a surreptitious look around to make sure the woman in question wasn’t in view. I wasn’t sure why it even bothered me that she seemed to be absent more than she was present. Gale couldn’t stand her, and there were plenty of other women around for me to look at and enjoy.
Something about having her right here, though, was working on me.
She was a total smoke show, without even trying. Great rack, sexy, muscled legs. I’d love to watch her doing some yoga.
The few times I had seen her, she’d been either on her way out or just closeting herself in her room. If I were a suspicious man, I’d think she was avoiding us. Or ignoring us.
Pulling a mug down, I checked the heat on the coffee pot with the back of my hand and pulled it free to pour a cup. Hot and fresh. Hmm. I hadn’t made it. Baron and Gale would sooner walk to the cafe on campus than figure out how to make it. That left one person.
I tilted my head side to side as I sipped. It was damn good coffee.
I wandered over to the couch and sat down. I had no class for a couple of hours, so I could chill this morning, wake up slow.
Maybe it was a good thing that she wasn’t around a lot. I had a pile of work to do on my mathematics thesis, which meant I had to concentrate. Focus. I couldn’t let some girl distract me.
I narrowed my eyes at nothing, considering. When I thought about it, though, her studied absence might be even more distracting than her presence. This situation wasn’t unfolding quite as I’d expected, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Gale had been so worried that she’d girlify the crap out of our place and come between us with her womanly wiles, but she was rarely around. It was kind of anticlimactic.
I wanted some womanly wiles, damnit.
This was no fun.
