As for the other students, no one really goes out of their way to talk to me. The guys look at me with interest, and the girls look at me almost warily. They can sense I’m competition or I’m trouble, and no one wants to take a chance on befriending me.
It’s better this way anyway, so I don’t mind.
After the final bell rings for the day, I’m relieved and follow the crowd as they exit the school. Okay, so my first day of school went better than I’d expected, but I’m sure it won’t last. I make my way past the school parking lot and start down the sidewalk to head back to my aunt’s.
Numerous cars pass by, and a few even honk their horns or guys yell crude things out their windows. I ignore them until I spy a flash of red in the corner of my eye. I look up and recognize Blake’s red and black Camaro driving past. His head turns as he meets my gaze, his eyes holding mine briefly before he faces forward and the Camaro drives off.
I return my attention to walking, and my mind drifts. I’d learned a few things today by eavesdropping on conversations. Blake’s been dating Camilla, his girlfriend, for years. Also, Blake and Camilla are quite popular and so are their friends. Honestly, they sound like your average, popular, high school couple. Blake is the school’s star quarterback, and Camilla is the top tier of the school’s social hierarchy. It’s also rumored that Camilla is very territorial over Blake, and that she’ll take down anyone that dares to smile flirtatiously at him.
If I want to keep my original goal of focusing on graduating, I need to stay far away from the likes of Blake Cavanaugh. It’s not like I’m worried about Camilla, because I’ve come across every kind of scumbag imaginable, so she definitely doesn’t scare me. Not much does these days.
When I arrive at my Aunt Catherine’s house, I let myself in and walk past the beige living room and down the hall to my bedroom. I blink with surprise when I find a note taped to the door. Wariness immediately surfaces as I take the note down and scan it. This is not a vacation. Find yourself a job and pay for your own groceries and expenses.
I swallow the lump that has developed in my throat, and the ache in my chest threatens to intensify and expand, rendering me immobile. Feeling a little unsteady, I back up until I am leaning against the wall in the hallway, and my eyes close as my fist crumples the note into a ball.
My mom’s voice echoes in my head. “When the fuck did I tell you to come out of your room?! Get back in there!”
“But Mama, I’m hungry.”
“Do I look like I care? Go back to your room and I’ll bring you something later.”
“But you always forget—”
“Go away!”
My mom’s screaming voice has me flinching, and I try to shake off the memory. Instead of allowing it to bring me down, I open my eyes and pull myself together, taking deep, slow breaths.
Fine.
I’ll get a job.
It’s exactly what I need anyway, and at least my mom isn’t around to steal money from me. My earnings will finally be all mine. With grim resolve, I push off from the wall and enter the bedroom that I can call ‘home’ until the day I graduate.
The room is simple since Catherine hadn’t put much effort into decorating her guestroom. The walls are yellow and bare, the carpet an off-white. Sunflower-themed curtains hang from the two windows, giving the room a little character. One window faces the side yard and the street corner, and the other looks over the backyard.
I drop my backpack on the twin bed and turn away to dig through the dresser drawers that hold my meager assortment of clothing. I want to dress nicely in hopes of making a good impression. Once I slip into a respectable, tan skirt and one of the few nice shirts that I own, I leave the house and begin walking towards downtown. Maybe a store within walking distance will be hiring. I really am in desperate need of a car, and I have until graduation to buy one. If I don’t have one by that time, life is going to get very tough seeing as I’ll need a job and a place to live. I don’t know how I am going to do all this on my own, but I’m determined to make it work. I need to concentrate on taking care of myself, and transportation is imperative. Once I have that sorted, I’ll start worrying about the rest.
Two
The next morning, I wake up feeling momentarily disoriented until I recall that I am in Ohio and living with Catherine. My chest tightens when I think of the abandonment I’d felt when I’d come home from school a mere week ago, only to find my mom gone. She’d moved out while I’d been at school and had stolen all of the cash I’d managed to hide from her. To be honest, our relationship had always been rocky at best. She’d just barely tolerated me, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d taken off without a backward glance.
My options had been very limited since I’m not eighteen. Instead of dropping out of school and getting a full-time job, I’d left Illinois and hitchhiked here in hopes that my mom’s sister would be generous enough to allow me to stay with her. All I need is a roof over my head until I graduate.
I’d known that Catherine probably wouldn’t welcome me with open arms. My mom had complained a lot about her younger sister over the years, and I’d learned that their relationship had been severed after my mom had slept with Catherine’s fiancé years ago.
Catherine had actually shut the door in my face when she’d seen me standing on her doorstep, but after begging for her to hear me out, she’d reluctantly agreed to listen to what I had to say. I feel ashamed when I think back to that day, but I remind myself that the end result is worth the shame and humiliation of groveling.
I’m quite certain the only reason she’s allowing me to stay is because she’s getting some satisfaction over her sister’s daughter actually needing her. She’s been nothing but mean and barely tolerable of my presence. I can tell that she’s enjoying inflicting a bit of revenge upon me, even though it was my mom’s sins that caused Catherine’s pain, not my own. But hey, at least I have a roof over my head.
So here I am.
With a soft sigh, I pull back the sheets and pick out fresh clothing before heading to the bathroom. The door has a lock on the knob, and I press it inwards to guarantee privacy. After turning on the shower, I peer at myself in the mirror as I wait for the water to heat.
Physically—I am the younger version of my mother. We both have long, dark brown hair, and I’ve been tempted to cut mine to help rid me of our similarity, but I can’t imagine myself with short hair. I also have her almond shaped hazel eyes, with naturally long eyelashes. I’d once heard one of her boyfriend’s call them ‘bedroom eyes.’ I prefer to describe mine as sultry, and I’ve learned that if I’m not careful, I come across as flirty even when I’m not trying to be.
The only thing that really differentiates us is that she’s older and taller. She’s five-seven, and I’m five-three. As for my father, my mom claims to have no idea who he is. I’ll never know which of the many men she’d slept with could have been the one to father me. Judging by the men she’s dated or slept with in the past, I’m better off not knowing.
Steam is starting to collect on the mirror, and I turn and step into the shower. As I wash up, I think of my new job at a candy store. It’s about ten blocks from Catherine’s house, so it’s going to be quite a walk to and from the store, but it’ll be worth it. I start Wednesday, and I’m looking forward to having something to do in the evenings. At least things are starting to fall into place, and I can begin controlling the direction my life is taking.
After I finish my shower, I quickly put on fresh clothes, dry my hair, grab two Pop-tarts, and leave for school.
Before I can reach my first class, I spy Blake and Camilla standing where they’d been yesterday morning, and they seem to be arguing. I quickly duck my head and continue walking past, trying to go unnoticed. I’m oddly pleased that they seem to be having problems, but I’m also feeling guilty. I shouldn’t feel any satisfaction over any issues that they’re having.
Besides, Blake is completely out of my league. I’ve been with guys lik
e him in the past. All I am to those types is a quick lay, and then I’m someone to forget about. Guys like him don’t ‘see’ girls like me.
~*~
On Wednesday, the walk from school to the candy store turns out to be longer than I’d anticipated, and I just barely make it there on time. Thankfully, I’d changed into my uniform shirt before leaving school. I’m also lucky that it’s not raining today.
A guy named Jason is training me, and after I slip on the rainbow-striped apron, we spend the first few hours of my shift going over all the merchandise.
The store is quite large with burgundy walls and wood flooring. All the accents and shelving are white, and there are several small, round tables at the front of the store with curvy, wrought-iron chairs. Not only does the store carry every kind of candy imaginable, but there’s also coffee upfront by the register and counter.
I have no idea how I’m going to keep track of all the different flavors of everything, and Jason just smiles and tells me it’ll come with time. After watching Jason interact with the customers, he has me work behind register for a while.
I’m still behind the counter when Jason walks over later, a scowl on his face. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose and glances towards the side of the store. “I swear, every night we have to tell them to turn down the music.”
I tilt my head and listen, and I can hear faint rock music mixing in with the store’s light pop/rock that’s playing from the overhead speakers. I look at him questioningly.
“The tattoo shop next door likes to turn up the music in the evenings.” He suddenly grins. “You can have the honors tonight.”
“You want me to go ask them to turn down their music?”
“It’s part of the job, so you’d better get used to it. Just walk in there and ask them to turn it down,” he explains. Then his attention shifts as a woman and her two kids walk up to the counter with a candy bouquet.
Feeling momentarily unsure, I stand there for another second before turning away to fulfill his request. I doubt it’s going to be as easy as he’d claimed, and I hadn’t missed the look of gleeful relief in his blue eyes once his gaze had fallen upon me.
I walk next door and open the glass door, entering the tattoo shop. The music is quite loud, and I grimace at the decibel it’s at. There’s loud, and then there’s loud.
The tattoo shop’s front room is smaller than the candy store, and there are tattoo designs on the walls and large books to browse through. A few red, plush couches take up the center of the room, and more books lay upon a table. The shop is casual with barely any décor. The focal point is all the tattoo designs—as it should be since that’s what the shop is selling. I walk past a few people and ignore their smirks when they catch sight of me in my colorful apron.
I wander towards the back where there’s a glass-encased counter, and a woman with short, black hair with red tips stands behind it, looking bored. She looks up, and amusement enters her gaze as she takes in my apron. She straightens and folds her arms over her chest, bringing attention to the tattoos that line both her forearms. Her lip piercing catches the light as she smirks at me. “Well, if it isn’t Princess Lolly. Did you take a wrong turn somewhere along the way to Lollypop Fields?” she mocks.
I have no idea what she means by that comment, and it must show on my face.
She snorts. “Candyland,” she says in a patronizing tone.
I still don’t understand, and I’m betting it’s not worth inquiring about.
When she realizes her reply still isn’t making any sense to me, she stares. “The board game. My God, you’re worse than the last girl they hired,” she scoffs.
Board games were never a part of my childhood, but I’m not going to tell her that. I’m also not about to let her continue treating me this way. “Your music is too loud,” I say simply.
“Do I look like I care?”
I move off, striding towards the back hall. “Nope, but I bet your manager won’t appreciate you allowing people in the back.”
“Hey!”
The woman grabs my arm just as I’m about to enter the hall, bringing me up short.
I pointedly look down at the painful grip she has on me. “Does your manager know that you physically accost people in the store?”
She flushes angrily, abruptly releasing me. “Why you little—”
“What is going on here?” a masculine voice cuts in.
We both look up.
A guy stands there with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and he looks vaguely familiar to me. I can’t place where I’ve seen him, but I’m positive I’ve seen that handsome face and those gray eyes of his before.
“I was looking for the manager,” I explain to him.
His eyes flicker to the tatted woman. “You know you shouldn’t have the music that loud.”
She glares at him, looking defensive now. “It’s not that loud.”
“If they’re coming in here, it is.” His eyes shift back to me and they roam over my face. “C’mon.” Then he turns and walks over to the counter.
Since he seems to have more of a say around here than she does, I ignore the woman and follow him. He looks too young to be her manager or a tattooist. I wonder what his actual job description is. Maybe he’s the cleaning guy or something. No…if he were, he wouldn’t be bossing around the pissed off woman that is likely glaring daggers into my back.
I watch as he adjusts the knob on a sound system before turning back to me. “Better?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you.”
He nods, his eyes drifting over me and lingering on the rainbow-colored apron.
Now that the music has been successfully turned down, I flash him a smile and turn to leave the shop. I have a job I have to get back to.
~*~
When I exit the school for the day, I find that it’s pouring out. The weather matches my mood, and as I leave the dry shelter of the building, the rain soaks me from head to toe. I duck my head and ignore the other students rushing off to their vehicles. Thankful to be putting distance between myself and the school, I wrap my arms around my body as I walk down the sidewalk.
Why’d I do it? Why can’t I help myself? She’d been nice to me and had even invited me to sit with her and her friends at lunch. For the first time in a long time, I’d found myself trying to fit in, but then I’d messed it all up. I’d ended up flirting with her boyfriend right in front of her. When I’d seen the interest in his gaze, I hadn’t been able to help myself, and I’d pounced without thinking.
The ache in my chest begins to expand. Will I always be like this? So needy and desperate for affection? Am I ever going to experience it? Will I even recognize the genuineness of it if it ever happens? I haven’t a clue what it feels like to be cared about. I grew up feeling unwanted and unloved, and I have nothing to base love or affection on. All I’ve ever really known is lust and greed. Does that stop me from searching for the one thing I’ve never known? Nope. I’m also not a complete fool. When I’m with guys, it’s all false illusions—I’m aware of that.
“Fallon!”
I’m abruptly brought back to the present when I hear my name. I look up, blinking against the rain to see Blake’s car idling in the street, the passenger window down as he peers out at me from the driver’s seat. He’s in the lane closest to me, which means he’d driven past, turned around somewhere and had come back.
“Get in, I’ll give you a ride,” he offers.
My heart leaps in my chest over his suggestion, but then I control myself. He has a girlfriend, and I have to respect that. “Thanks, but I’m good!” I call out to him. I flash him a quick smile before ducking my head and walking further down the sidewalk. I can’t believe I’m turning him down.
Blake can’t believe it either, because he backs the Camaro up so that it’s keeping pace with me. “It’s raining!” he calls out to me.
I pause, peering down the street to see that no one is driving in this direction, but that won�
��t last for very long. I smile at him again. “I’m very much aware of that.”
His eyes skim over my rain-soaked shorts and shirt. “You have a long walk, let me give you a ride.”
A car turns onto the street and drives up behind the Camaro. The driver honks their horn in annoyance, and when there’s a break in traffic in the opposite lane, they pass him.
Blake glances in his rearview mirror, and then he pulls his car closer to the curb as he looks out the passenger window at me expectantly.
“I’ll get your seat wet,” I point out.
He reaches behind him and tosses a blanket across the passenger seat. “Problem solved.”
I’ll look like a fool if I turn him down again, so without a word, I walk over. He pushes open the passenger door, and I climb in. Once again, his cologne tantalizes my senses in the small interior of the car. Instead of thinking about how he makes me feel, I concentrate on my surroundings. The radio is playing softly, and the windshield wipers are whooshing repetitively. It’s like we’re cocooned in our own little world as it continues to rain outside.
Blake glances in his side mirror before pulling out onto the street. When there’s a break in traffic headed in the opposite direction, he makes a sharp U-turn so that we’re driving away from the school.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“No problem.”
There’s an awkward silence, and I gaze out my window.
“How’s your hip?”
I bite back a coy reply. “It’s fine.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him glance at me. “Not much of a talker, are you?”
His comment has me turning my head to look at him, and I find myself caught up in his rich, dark chocolate gaze. He is so dang fine to look at, and my gaze drifts over his cheek bones, his nose, and then his firm, masculine lips. Everything about him is pure perfection. When it dawns on me that I’m staring, I tear my eyes from his to stare out the windshield. I shrug, not really giving him an answer to his question. I can feel his gaze on me for a second longer until he turns his attention back to the road.
Shameless (Loving Fallon Book 1) Page 2