Falling For The Bad Boy - Page 4

At least in here I don’t have to worry about Kai being able to stare at me, he sits on the other side of the room up front near the window, and I sit closer to the door but at the back of the class. He would have to crane his neck pretty far to watch me in here.

I get to my station and cannot help but notice Kai hasn’t come to class yet. I don’t know why I am even looking for him. Why do I care? I never cared before, did I? Or have I always watched for him and just never noticed I was doing it until today? I find myself growing more irritated with every passing second, and I have forgotten what I was even painting. My music note is now just a black glob. Wonderful. I stretch the edges of my blob out in small strokes working my mistake into my design.

I get lost in touching up my painting. It isn’t until I am putting my supplies

away that I notice Kai in his area doing the same. Stupid jerk, making me notice him.

Curiosity gets the best of me and once the class is empty, I nonchalantly walk to the window and sneak a peek at his painting. Interesting, it’s of a guitar. I didn’t know he played. Upon further inspection, I notice a marijuana leaf painted faintly on the bottom left corner. There is the Kai I know. I roll my eyes but laugh at the same time. Mrs. Nelson will have a conniption when she sees it. By this time, I have missed half of break and start making my way to my locker so I can finish the school day out in the hell that is known as chemistry.

Chapter 3

“Katie, is that you, sweetheart?” My mom glances at the front door as it shuts. As if it would be anyone else. She is inside the bathroom doing her hair. She is securing her blonde bob wig as I go to the fridge to pilfer for a snack.

I check the date on the yogurt cup as I peel the lid back and lick it. It went out of date yesterday, so it is still good. My mom has a variety of wigs. Her hair changes depending on whom she is entertaining for the evening. You would think she would schedule most of her dates while I was at school. Some she sees on their lunch break but others she sees on their way home from work before going home to their wives. Men are disgusting pigs.

I wouldn’t call my mom a streetwalker. She has been doing this for as long as I can remember. She has tried her hand at normal jobs, but they never seemed to work out other than the diner. I think she works there so she can meet more men. The men she sees are regulars. I make it my business to know where she is and when to a point in case something was to happen to her. As much as I hate what she does, she is my mother, and I worry about her. I toss my yogurt cup in the trash and place my spoon in the sink.

Sinking down on the couch, I flip the TV on. We don’t get cable, but we pick up a few of the local channels for free. The news is on. I don’t really like watching it, but I like the buffer it serves between my mother and me. Great, they are predicting a major snowstorm that has the capability of causing power outages. The news anchor goes on to talk about safety tips and ways to prepare in case of an emergency. He goes on about a weather radio. I didn’t think they even sold radios anymore.

My mom makes her way into the small living room, spritzing her perfume. Not like it does her any good as much as she puffs on her Marlboro Reds. “You look great.” I give Nancy Francis the compliment I know she was getting ready to fish for.

“You think?” She flits her fingers through her wig, trying to give it a natural tousled appearance. Next, she does her signature slow spin. My mom is beautiful. She doesn’t look forty, more like late twenties…early thirties, dressed in a red sweater over a pair of gold shiny leggings with black hooker boots. At least that is what I refer to them as. They remind me of the ones Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman. If only my mom could be so lucky as to land a billionaire. Then I wouldn’t be babysitting for the Millers this weekend. Then I could go to a party like the one Aaron is throwing. Not that I want to go to his party. I’m just saying, if I did want to go, I’d be able to go without worrying about the consequences of giving up a week’s worth of cash.

“Do you have choir?” She smiles at me, moving over to the record player, blasting my Fleetwood Mac record. She knows it’s my favorite.

“Yeah,” I lie through my teeth, knowing either way I’m not staying here to hear her moans and the groans of Mr. Thursday. “What time is your date coming?” I find if I treat her job as though she is just going on a real date, my mother is more forthcoming with her information.

“Around five thirtyish.” She continues waltzing around the room lighting candles, setting the mood. I’ll be gone by five just to be safe. “Is Becks going with you?” She narrows her eyes at me with a smirk.

“Yeah,” I lie again, not wanting her to worry. She doesn’t like me walking by myself at night. She says the streets aren’t safe for a young pretty girl at night. She is one to talk. But it isn’t like anything interesting ever happens around here. I think the most exciting news we have had in years was when a body turned up in the river. It only ended up here because of the current. The crime didn’t happen in our little town.

Taking my worn copy of Jane Eyre from my bag, I skim over my favorite passages. My mom goes back to doing whatever else she does to prepare.

~**~

I must have dozed off for a short while. My mom is nudging my shoulder gently and telling me I will be late for choir. After stretching and wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth, I grab my bag and throw my hoodie back on.

A few blocks over, I duck into The Grind, a small coffee shop. I still have money left on the gift card Penny gave me for my Christmas present, so I splurge a little on a latte and a vanilla crème cheese Danish. When I get to the counter to order, Raven greets me. I didn’t know she works here. She gives me a weak smile and fills my order. I grab a seat by the window so I can people watch. I often wonder where people are rushing off to and imagine that they are leading these great lives, when in reality they are probably just as bored and lonely as I am.

I pull my journal out, jot down a few thoughts about life, and mainly scribble some doodles in the corners of the pages. I take my time savoring the warm vanilla latte and pick at my Danish like a bird. No need to rush. I have nowhere else to be for a while. Sometimes I make my way to the train station and walk along the tracks, or I will sit on the benches and watch the birds while dreaming of someday catching a train of my own out of here. Not that I could ride the trains that pass through. They only haul coal.

I nearly jump out of my skin when a flattened palm smacks against the glass by my head. Looking up I see Aaron and Penny. As they make their way inside to my table, I shove my journal in my bag. Aaron is the kind of jerk who will swipe it and read it aloud if given the opportunity.

They grab the seats on the other side of me. Penny shivers and he wraps his arms around her, hugging her tight. “It’s colder than a snowman’s balls out there,” Aaron jokes. I shake my head at him and Penny giggles.

“What are you guys up to?” I ask, Aaron normally has basketball practice and Penny says it always runs late.

“Not much, getting ready to go to dinner with my parents. Saw you in the window. Thought I’d kill some time. My dad had an emergency at the office. Who knows when we will get to eat? But you know how my mom is. Family dinner isn’t family dinner unless everyone is accounted for.” Penny rolls her eyes. Her dad is a copy editor for the local newspaper. What kind of emergency could he really have?

Aaron leans forward, putting his elbows on the table. “You coming to my party with Penny Saturday night?” He has an amused grin planted on his face.

“What party?” I play dumb. I don’t want Penny to know Aaron already invited me. Penny will want to know when I talked to him without her.

Aaron winks at me knowing I just lied to my best friend.

“I’m having a thing—everyone who is anyone is going to be there. Other than that pumpkin headed douchebag you two hangout with.” Aaron looks back and forth between us. Penny smacks Aaron on the arm for dissing Beckett. He is such a jackass.

“Well I would much rather hang with Beckett. I’m not everyone or anyone.” I stick my tongue out at him and grab my bag from the empty seat beside me. My latte is cold and gross now.

Tags: Glenna Maynard Romance
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