Page 30 of Our Ruined Beginnings

“Nothing good,” I whine, swiping away the milkshake and marinara still clinging to my face. It’s the understatement of the century. “I need a shower. Then I’ll tell you everything.”

It’s half an hour later by the time we’re back and I’ve dragged myself out from under the soothing hot water, wrapped a towel around my hair, and settled next to Kinsley in my pajamas. Halfway through a chunk of the brownie I forgot about earlier, she tries to speak around a mouthful of chocolate.

“These are incredible! I’ve missed your baking, H.”

“Take them with you. They weren’t my favorite.” She doesn’t notice or mention that the pan was still full when she started, thankfully, ’cause I’m way too exhausted to get into that.

“Are you trying to fatten me up?”

“Share them with your roommate,” I offer, but she shakes her head.

“I know who will enjoy them. Anyway, tell me everything.” She pops the last bite into her mouth and metaphorically gives me the floor.

“God, it was awful,” I start, so glad I have someone to unwind with after, someone to moan to about my shitty day. “As soon as I turn up, I see Madden there with Bethany and all of their cronies.”

“Oh shit,” Kinsley mumbles, swallowing hard. “What are the chances of that?”

“Absolute zero. They were clearly there to make my shift hell.” She winces before I’ve even confirmed it. “And they did. It was awful, Kins. They all sat there while she dumped her milkshake over me, and then while I was cleaning it up, she poured a plate of meatballs over my head. Meatballs! I had spaghetti in my hair!”

“Oh no,” she coos consolingly. “Did the manager say anything?”

“No. I think they just thought I was an idiot. I felt like one. Looked like one too.”

“So quit,” Kinsley offers. “You don’t need that shit.”

“Wasn’t it you who was saying I have to stand up to them?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I don’t want you to let them make you feel anything you don’t deserve to feel. You don’t need to put up with their shit.”

“Actually, I do.”

“Come on, H. We can find you another hobby to keep you busy.”

Taking a deep breath, I decide to tell her the truth. I don’t really know why I kept it from her in the first place. If she hasn’t judged me so far, this is hardly gonna tip her over.

“I’m broke,” I say. She frowns lightly, as if she doesn’t understand the sentiment, which is fair.

“What do you mean? Does your card still not work?”

“Nope. And it’s not going to… My dad cut me off.”

Her mouth drops open. “That fucking wanker! How are you supposed to survive?”

I shrug lightly, ’cause I’ve already had that freak out.

“I’ve got a small amount of emergency cash, and we get meals included with tuition, so at least I’m not about to starve.”

“That’s not the point!” She’s outraged on my behalf, and I love her just a little bit more because of it, if that was even possible.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world. People work and survive,” I joke, but she’s still steaming as she leans for her bag, rummaging around before pulling her wallet out. I know what she’s about to do before she’s even located her card.

“Kins,” I say, as I still her hand with mine. “I don’t want your money. I’m handling it, I promise.” She wants to argue—I know she does—but if there’s anyone who could match her stubbornness, it’s me. Her shoulders deflate, and she lets her hands drop.

“Fine. But I don’t like it.” I can tell that from her tone alone. “If you need anything, it’s yours. I mean it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Eurgh. So you’re really gonna stick it out with the bitches, witches, and douche-canoes of DU?”

---