Page 2 of 4th Degree

I grin at her over my shoulder. “Trust me, I had plenty of fun with your dad last night.”

She rolls her eyes but turns back to her work. Once upon a time, her words would have hurt—being seen as the anti-fun one because I keep my distance doesn’t make for a great reputation in the workplace. Especially because everyone here loves to go out together after their shifts. They’re like a family unit that I’ve purposefully ostracized myself from.

But I’ve since hardened myself to both the teasing and the guilt. There are more important things than fun in the shape of shots.

“Why not?” the nosy new guy asks. “I mean, I have plenty of friends who don’t drink, so I get that part, but you won’t even come out with us to hang out?”

I shrug, turning my attention back to the silverware I’ve started to roll. Always stay busy. “I just don’t have time.” Or money. But I wave that thought away. “I have school, and work, and?—”

“You can’t spare time for one drink after a shift?” he asks in a shocked voice. Guess that’s what I get for working in a bar-heavy restaurant. I stand out like a sore thumb.

“Nope,” I say, popping the p. “I’m a full-time student with two jobs. Extra time isn’t my strong suit.”

I don’t want to admit the real reason I’ll never join them. The one that keeps me away from not just these coworkers, but also from the ones I have at the coffee shop, where I work in the mornings.

I don’t see coworkers as friends. Being anything less than professional with other employees is risky, and risk and job will never go in the same sentence for me. I refuse. Too much of my life is affected by money, and I’ve carefully constructed every piece of my week so that I have some semblance of control over it. Risking my paycheck for a convenient friendship isn’t worth it. An after-shift drink is definitely not worth it.

“Jesus, that sounds awful,” he says, finally giving up the argument. “I don’t know how you do it. When I lived on-campus, I had one part-time job, and I barely survived. When do you do anything for yourself? Or do you just never sleep?”

I barely hold back a sardonic laugh. “Something like that.”

Sleep? What’s that? If I’m not working or studying, I’m cooking, taking care of my mom, and helping my brother with homework. I can’t even remember the last time I got eight hours of sleep. Self-care isn’t exactly on the schedule.

But then my thoughts flit to my plans tonight, and I realize…that’s not quite true anymore.

It wasn’t just the financial assistance of Mom’s medical grant, though that was huge. Being able to hire Maria as a home nurse to help with Mom so Joey and I weren’t on 24/7 duty was a change to the quality of our lives. Knowing that my brother and I have a little more freedom is invaluable.

I glance at the clock on the wall, mentally calculating how much time I have left before my MMA trial class tonight, feeling a rush of anticipation.

The rest of my work shift drags by. But somehow during the course of it, my excitement morphs into anxiousness. By the time I’m walking into the gym, my nerves have bubbled to the surface.

Beyond gym class, I've never done a sport in my life. I wouldn't say I'm unathletic, but there's also zero muscle knowledge in my body. Watching this sport and studying YouTube videos don't give me much of a boost.

“Hey, Skylar,” I hear called out when I step through the gym entrance. I turn to the left and find Jax, the guy who signed me up last week, sitting behind the reception desk with a big smile on his face. “Glad you could make it.”

“Nothing would’ve kept me away from this,” I say with a grin.

“We'll start in ten minutes, so feel free to set your stuff down under any of the chairs. Or there are cubbies in the locker rooms. Wherever you're comfortable.”

“Sounds good,” I answer, my jitters dissipating. “I'll just wait for your word to start.”

As I move through the warmup, and then the lesson with Jax, I experience about a dozen emotions. Wonder, as I learn the techniques. Relief, that I’m enjoying it as much as I always hoped I would. Glee, that I can feel my muscles straining, knowing I’m going to be pleasantly sore tomorrow because my body is putting in good, hard work.

By the time the class is over, I’m drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and I have a huge, goofy grin on my face.

“Awesome work today, Skylar,” Jax says. “You’re a natural.”

I must be beaming at his praise, because he chuckles when he sees my expression. “You seem surprised. You didn't think you'd be good at this?”

I shrug, rolling my shoulders back in a stretch. “I've never done this before, so I didn't know what was going to happen.”

“You seem knowledgeable about the sport, though. You've never trained?”

I shake my head. “I enjoy watching fights, and I've…watched videos, but I've never actually trained. I never had the opportunity to take that step.”

“Until now,” Jax finishes my sentence, the statement sounding more like a question.

“Until now,” I confirm without adding anything else.

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