Cara
The days pass slowly, agonizingly so. Even when I try my best to get back into things—to forget the past few days, to forget him—I can’t seem to get it right. I get the results from one of the tests I took the other day, and as it turns out, I failed. Things get worse from there when I end up running into another girl outside the dorm, causing the coffee in my hands to spill over the rim of the cup and down the front of my white button-up shirt, drenching me.
I hiss as the heat cuts through the thin fabric quickly, and it starts to stick to my skin. “Fuck!” Jerking around, I stumble over my feet as I turn in a circle seeking some napkins or something to mop up the mess I’ve now made. I groan when I see that the container that would hold said napkins is empty, but when I turn back to ask for some, another person has moved up and is chatting up the oblivious barista. It’s useless.
I toss the now empty cup of coffee in the trash and head for the door, pushing out onto the campus sidewalk. Covering my chest with crossed arms, I take off at a run across the street, cutting down a path that leads to my dorm.
Thankfully, just as I’m running up, another girl is leaving, and she holds the door open for me. I call back my appreciation as I hurry through the building until I reach my door. My keys jingle in my pocket, and I adjust swiftly, reaching down and sliding them out as I quickly unlock my door and burst inside, ripping my soaked shirt off as I go.
With a grimace, I toss the now ruined shirt into the laundry hamper and then grab a towel to wipe myself off before hunting for a new outfit.
My frustration mounts when I can’t find the T-shirt I’m looking for. I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to take a few calming breaths. Ever since I ran from Ace, it seems everything is falling apart.
Worse than that, I miss him. I miss him more than I thought I would and definitely more than I know I should. Ace isn’t the type of man who loves. He’s the type of man who takes and uses. My hand lands on a soft, cotton shirt, my fingers sinking into the fabric. I don’t pull it off the hanger yet, not while my mind is rioting with thoughts and emotions.
Why do I miss him?It’s stupid. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he wouldn’t have let me run. I’m not dumb enough to be that clueless. If Ace wanted me there, then I would’ve had no escape. I would’ve been his captive. Right now, I wish he’d chosen that path. Then I wouldn’t be standing here, alone, thinking about him. Remembering the time I spent with him.
Ace is a man who gets what he wants, and even if he hasn’t said it, his absence tells me that what he wanted … wasn’t me. Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them away, gripping the shirt in my hand tighter as I yank it from its hanger and pull it on over my head.
You’re stupid, Cara, to want a man like him. Yet even though I know the type of man he is, the thought of him still makes my chest ache.
Inhaling sharply, I push the thoughts of Ace and that night three days ago away and slam my closet door shut. What we shared was amazing, but it will never happen again. The vibration of my phone in my pocket drags me back to the present, and I pull the device out. As soon as I see the time, I don’t bother to check the message and shove it back into my pocket in a frenzy.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I dash across the room, grabbing up the bag I’d dropped by the door as well as my keys. I’m going to be fucking late to work.
I race out of the dorm, passing through the doors in a hurry and nearly slamming into another student coming in.
“Sorry!” I call over my shoulder, but I don’t slow my speed as I sprint down the sidewalk.
It’s only a few blocks, but each second that passes makes me sweat harder. My legs pump behind me, and my heart hammers in my chest as I push myself to go faster. I must’ve stood in my dorm thinking about Ace longer than I thought. I swore I had another thirty minutes before I had to be at work.
By the time I reach the diner, I’m a trembling, sweaty mess. I slow my step to a light jog when the sign comes into view, and I cut through the parking lot, stopping only once I’ve reached the front door. I pull it open and walk inside, finding Mark—my boss—standing behind the counter. I freeze. Not only am I late but I’m late on the day the boss is here.
Good job, Cara!
I suck in a breath and start on my apology. “I’m so sorry that I’m late...” I blurt, quickly walking toward him, but all he does is shake his head. He’s older, about sixty with salt-and-pepper-colored hair and stern features. Being punctual is his biggest pet peeve, and I’ve basically put an X on my back by being late.
“Come back to my office, and we can discuss this,” Mark says firmly, turning and striding back down the side hallway that leads to the dingy storage closet that houses dry inventory as well as his office—which is nearly the same size as the closet. I blow out a breath and feel my shoulders sink as I pass by a few coworkers and follow him in the same direction.
I swallow down my frustration and turn my eyes to the floor. We’ve barely stepped foot inside his office when my heart sinks into my stomach. The way he’s looking at me tells me he’s about to turn my world upside down, and the tinge of guilt in his eyes confirms what I already know.
“I’m sorry, Cara, but we have to let you go.”
The panic inside me refuses to stay in place. “Let me go? I’m…” I don’t know what I can say or do to make this better. “Over being late? I’m never late—not usually, not until today,” I insist. “Please, I promise I’ll be more aware in the future. I’ll stay late if you need me to. I’ll do the other girls’ side work. I’ll pick up extra hours or do doubles if you—”
“It’s not just you being late today,” he cuts me off. “And it’s not just you.” Mark looks away. “We have to let a few others go as well. There’ve been some … cutbacks.”
Cutbacks?At a diner? Geez. The economy isn’t that bad. Mark frowns, the lines in his forehead deepening. I blow out a breath. At least he’s not being smug about this or cruel. No, I can tell he doesn’t really want to let me go, though it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m now jobless.
I sigh and reach up to scrub a hand down my face. My eyes burn with unshed tears, tears of frustration. “Okay,” I say. What else can I say?
“I’m sorry, Cara,” Mark apologizes.
Yeah, me too. Instead of voicing that, however, I just shake my head and turn for the door. I’ll need to find another job, find another way to make ends meet. Book payments are due soon, and tuition as well. “Guess I’ll see you later, Mark,” I call back. Maybe. I don’t even care that my voice is less than respectful. Yeah, it’s not his fault, but I just ran all the way here to get fired, and my irritation is through the roof. I could scream.
I head back toward the front of the building, and as I pass the counter and head for the front double doors, I run headfirst into another person. Preparing to apologize, I lift my gaze from the floor and find Leanna standing there. I blink in surprise.
She gives me a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. An awkward air surrounds us, and I’m half tempted to run out of the diner and back to my dorm room. Today is complete shit, and now I’m faced with a reminder of the man I ran from three nights ago.