Better start practicing.

“What the …?”

My words from this morning bounced inside my head.

“The chances of you wantin’ to work in this food truck are akin to the chances of my joinin’ the Bolshoi.”

West St. Claire had jokes.

Unfortunately, I had a feeling I was about to become his favorite one.

West

Bzzz.

Bzzzzz.

Bzzzzzzzzzz.

My phone danced across my nightstand, falling to the floor, forming a jerky circle like a bug on its back.

I leaned down and picked it up, swiping the screen to turn off my alarm. A muffled shriek pierced my eardrum.

“Honey? Is that you? Larry! Come here! He answered.”

Fuck. My. Life.

I’d been knocked out dead for ten hours, so it didn’t register the monotone, wake-the-fuck-up sound of my alarm was also my ringtone.

For a split second, I toyed with the idea of hanging up then figured I’d filled up my asshole quota for this week yesterday by eating all of East’s pre-prepared jock food. Biting my own fist to the point of drawing blood, I pressed my phone to my ear.

Here goes Nothing and its fucking asshole cousin, Calamity.

“Mother.”

“Hello! Hi!” Mom cried out desperately. “Westie, I can’t believe you answered.”

Join the fucking club.

“How’s it going?” I rolled sideways on the mattress, sitting on the edge of my bed. The clock on my nightstand said two in the afternoon. It also said I was a complete, goddamn moron who’d slept in again. Graduation was looming closer, and I knew I was going to get out of Sheridan University with my useless degree, but it would be nice to at least pretend I gave a damn.

“Nothing, honey! I mean, everything’s good. Just fine. We wanted to check in on you. See how you were doing. Easton has been giving us updates, but we love hearing your voice.”

“Is that him?” Dad sniffled in the background. I heard shuffling. Things knocked off a table. They were rabid with excitement. Guilt kicked in, followed by its loyal friend, Remorse. “Let me speak to him. Westie? Are you there?”

“Dad. Hi.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, son.”

I pushed my feet into the Blundstones under my bed, dragging my ass to the bathroom. I took a leak and brushed my teeth as Dad launched into a story about how the guy who promised to help him fertilize his land still wasn’t back from Wyoming, and that he’d lost another contract as a result. I got the subtext—I needed to send them more money before their electricity got cut off.

The sharp guilt I’d experienced a second ago dulled into numbness.

“I’m guessing the bankers aren’t your biggest fans.” I spat mint toothpaste and water into the sink, splashing water over my face. I didn’t glance in the mirror. Hadn’t faced myself in years—why start now?

“Oh, well, I mean … things aren’t looking great, I suppose. But—”

I didn’t let him finish.

“I’ll send some money by the end of the day. Speak soon. Bye.”

I hung up on him just as he started saying something. I grabbed my keys, jumped on the Ducati, and hauled ass to school. Eight minutes later, I strode into Lawrence Hall, to my two-thirty sports management lecture.

Late again, much to no one’s surprise.

Luckily, Professor Addams (spelled with double-D, fitting for his man-boobs) was busy attempting to work this magical thing called an iPad. His head was down as he assaulted the screen with his greasy fingers, trying to make his slideshow appear on the white screen behind him. I slinked into the back of the room, sliding into a spot between Reign and East. Addams’ slideshow finally popped into vision, and he let out a relieved cackle.

“’Sup.” Reign fist-bumped me. He was making out with a random. She was mauling his neck while his hand was shoved inside her skirt.

East flicked the back of my head. “Late again. By the way, thanks for eating all my food.”

“My pleasure.”

Truly, it was.

“Dare you to do it again.”

“You know I never turn down a challenge.”

Everyone had laptops and notebooks out. Not me. I didn’t bring a backpack. I showed up randomly whenever the threat of failing a semester seemed real. Professor Addams’ voice rose from the bowels of the lecture hall.

“Mr. St. Claire, I see you decided to finally grace us with your presence.”

I stared at him coolly, refusing to throw him a bone.

The girl next to Reign had the good senses to slap Reign’s hand away from under her skirt as all eyes darted to us.

Addams leaned his thick waist against his desk, oinking as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Tell me, Mr. St. Claire, are you even faintly interested in gaining higher education?”

Truthfully, I wasn’t. But this hellhole was far enough from Maine to lie low and do what I needed to do to keep my family from going bankrupt.

“Use your words,” he instructed haughtily. “You do know how to speak, don’t you?”

I smirked. I wasn’t easily flustered. Came with the territory of being numb across the board. People couldn’t touch me if they tried.

And they tried.

Often.

“Pursuing a degree seemed like a great excuse to leave the dump I lived in, and Sher U is pretty affordable for an out-of-state college. Jury’s still out on the educational staff, though.” I sat back, crossing my arms over my pecs.

“Burn!” Someone cackled.

“Holy shit,” another student bellowed. “St. Claire is handing asses in the ring and out of it.”

Laughs exploded from every corner of the room. Professor Addams’ mouth slacked, and his cheeks turned flamingo pink. It took him a full minute to recover.

“Give me one reason why I should let you get away with what you just said to me.”

“Because you were transferred here from an Ivy League university under mysterious circumstances, which no one cared to explore. Guess what?” I opened my arms theatrically. “I have all the time in the world. How is that for a full sentence for you, Professor Addams?”

“Pfft.” Reign raised his arm in the air, opening his palm, like he was dropping a mic.

“Savage to death.” East chuckled.