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“I’mProfessorWebber,andwelcome!” I sigh, sitting back in my computer chair, and rubbing my sweaty forehead.
The walk to work this morning was peaceful but fucking hot. I’m sure I have swamp ass and swamp pussy at this point. Who knew the sun would grace us with one-hundred-degree weather at nine in the morning? Next time, I’ll look at the bus schedule and catch a ride.
Sleep desperately gnaws at the back of my eyes, begging me to close them and rest just a little longer. Just one more hour. Or maybe five, for good measure. I need more coffee. Like a bucket full or in an IV attached to my arm for the rest of eternity. Maybe a fucking nap. Or, and hear me out, another good romp in the hay. I’m just saying; that it could put a rainbow over my day.
I know, I know. You can tell me all day long—River, it’s a bad idea to jump in the sack with a guy who will probably disappear soon. And logically, he’s a dick. With a good, massive cock, I want to take a three-hour tour of pound town. God. I’m pathetic.
I rub a circle over my temple. Maybe I’m too sleep-deprived to think about this. My body aches in the most delicious ways from his brutal thrusts and dominant ways, and I’m aching for more.
Plus, I need something to keep me sane, right? Because this schedule is going to fucking annihilate me. In the best possible way—I hope. It’s all for a good cause. Hurray for furthering my education and expanding my horizons so I can walk off into the sunset with a degree under my belt and far away from here.
Between online classes three days a week, actual classroom time on Wednesdays, and working two jobs split between two shifts daily. I don’t know if I’ll make it to my next birthday. I might keel over before I turn twenty.
Here lies the corpse of River West. Gone too soon after trying to work her ass off.
Yup. That’d do it. Which reminds me… I turn my attention to my computer screen, pretending to listen as he rambles.
The professor, as he insists we call him, wanders around the front of the classroom with his hands behind his back and a stern look lining his face.
“I’d like to welcome you all. As you know, this is a hybrid class. Half of you are here, and half are taking this class from the confines of your homes or other areas.” My nose twitches when his eyes look through the camera, and I swear he’s looking directly at me.
Yeah, yeah, old man. I’m learning from work. Some of us don’t have the luxury of screwing off while in school. I’ve got my beat-up old laptop propped up on the tall front counter, running on what seems like Windows 8 and half-working earbuds.
This was the only way to attend college full-time and work both jobs. Thank God for Booker’s understanding soul. Usually, I’d be at the bar by now, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I now open his used record store so I can attend class in peace. It’s not like anyone comes here anymore. Most people use The Dot to stream their music nowadays, instead of records or CDs. Briefly, records came back and business boomed, but not anymore. We don't get many walk-ins these days, but we get a good number of online orders from around the world through our website. Thankfully, that keeps this place afloat.
I take out my notebook and pen and take notes on everything he says. He’s apparently a stickler for punctuality, and assignments must be turned in on time: no special treatment—his words, not mine. Again, I swear he looks at me with a disapproving gaze, like he thinks I’ll skip out because I’m at home and not physically there.
Despite his asshole, stuck-up face, I keep going and listen to him go on and on. His voice grates my damn nerves with every word he says, and I kind of want to stab him. But hey, I only have a year of this, and then I’ll move on to the following year, where he’ll hopefully not be.
The bell above the door rings, echoing through the small store.
“Welcome to Dead Records. Look—” I stop short when I meet a familiar pair of icy eyes, filled to the brim with a cocky attitude, possession, and pure sex appeal.
My breath leaves my lungs. Did my rampant thoughts summon the devil himself and his merry band of fuckwits? Probably. This is the luck I’m graced with every day.
“River Blue,” he says in a smooth voice, gliding toward the large wooden counter I’m nestled behind and leaning against it. “How many jobs do you have to hold down in this shit town?” His brows furrow with concern, eyeing me up and down.
I sigh, rubbing my temple, hoping to soothe the damn headache forming. My professor drags on, but the entire band of Whispered Words stands in front of me with an expecting gaze. What did I do to deserve this type of punishment today? Is God punishing me? Again?
“Well, some of us can’t live off mommy and daddy’s money forever. What are you, Kieran? Twenty-one? Have you ever held down a real job?” I snark, barely containing the bitter words on my tongue. His face falls, and his friends snicker as they browse the old records. “Don’t laugh. You assholes are in the same boat.” I wrinkle my nose when their gazes land on me with narrowed eyes, and their mouths gape. Yeah, dickbags, I called you out. Someone has to.
Kieran blows out a breath and swipes a hand down his face. “Yeah, got me there,” he freely admits, shoving his hands into his pocket. “Listen…” he murmurs in a smooth, panty-dropping voice.
Goosebumps scatter across my flesh, raising the hairs on every inch of my body as he advances with predatory intent. A warm, familiar smile spreads across his lips when he rounds the L-shaped counter and invades every inch of my space.
My breath shudders inside my chest when Kieran looms above my seated frame, hovering there and watching me with a keen eye. His gaze falls on my rapid breaths. Every inhale I take; he counts it in his mind. Every little twitch, he eyes with intent. Every inch of my body is aware of his presence, heating under his watchful gaze. Try as I might, I can’t focus on anything but him. Them. All their eyes are on me and invading my bubble.
I stiffen when the faintest touch brushes through the long strands of my brown hair, pushing it to rest over my shoulders and exposing my neck. Shivers run down my spine when his rough fingertips dance across my flesh, taking whatever he wants, inch by inch.
A large lump lodges in my throat, and reality comes crashing in. A panic-fueled storm rages in my belly, and the bile rises. For so long, I’ve fought off the hazy memories of the worst night of my life, and it’s times like these that make them come back with a vengeance. Kieran’s too close—too touchy. Ants dance across my skin when their unwanted words rush through my mind. My eyes drift across the boys, connecting with Callum’s as his head tilts. Concern etches on his face, and his lips pop open like he’s connecting the dots in his mind. Swallowing hard, I stare at the ground, trying to ground myself and forget the world around me.
“She’s too drunk, just fucking….”
“Just take them off….”
“Fuck yes….”
Their voices haunt my every waking moment. The feel of their phantom fingers working down my shorts and tossing them and my panties aside, leaving me bare for an entire group of strangers to see. No matter how hard I struggled. No matter how many times I drunkenly said no, these strangers took what they wanted and eliminated my choices when I was only fifteen. My only saving grace was the man with dark eyes and tattoos creeping up his neck.
