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My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. I should go for a run to burn off this frustration pulsing through me.
“Tristan!”
I turn around halfway down the sidewalk and see Sage standing by the coffee shop door. When our eyes meet, she takes tentative steps toward me. I notice her gait is much smoother than the first day I met her. My assumption about her getting used to being on her feet must’ve been right.
“Are you okay?” Her voice rings with worry.
“Yup, fine. I gotta go, though.” I don’t mean to be short with her, but I need to decompress.
“If this is about—“
“It’s not.” I interrupt her and shake my head.
I don’t need her feeling guilted into anything.
“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows furrow as she looks over me.
“Positive. Don’t worry about it. Nothing a little run can’t cure.” I smile.
It’s forced, but it’s the best I can do right now.
“Okay.” She nods slowly. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Don’t worry, Sage. I’ll still come in for coffee and help you clean up when you need it, even if you don’t agree to my plan.” I mean that.
She’s been kind, and she didn’t slap me when I brought up paying her to be my girlfriend. That says a lot about her.
“Um, okay.” She nods.
“By the way, I like your earrings.” I lift my chin toward her ears with a smile.
She reaches up to touch them.
“Thanks.” The sweetest grin crosses her lips.
“I guess I’ll see you around.”
I walk away feeling defeated. I told her I’d give her time to think about my proposal and promised not to get upset if she decided not to do this. However, a part of me loses hope. Without her help, I have no idea how to convince my parents that I deserve that money.
Hopefully, a long run will spark some ideas.
It’s not like I can put on a ski mask and rob a bank. Not that I’d actually go through with something like that.
I head to the apartment to change. I need more than a run, but it should do the trick to clear my mind for a little while.
5
Sage
“Are you okay?” Julie asks.
“Yeah, of course.” I smile to reassure her, but my eyes wander to the window even though I know Tristan is no longer there.
The way he stood and left the coffee shop was a stark contrast to the man who had spent time here this week.
I’ve been turning his offer over and over again in my mind. I can’t accept it. I’m not a charity, no matter how much Tristan feels like he wants to help people. He doesn’t even know why I need the money. He’s going on having overheard one comment I had mumbled.
It’s tempting, though. I have medical bills piling up. At the rate I’m going, my grandchildren won’t finish paying for them unless we win the lottery.
