Page 63 of Easy Out

I quit my job at the Academy. The idea has been rolling through my head for months. I pulled the trigger today.

The last straw was hearing a few Westfield Prep parents complaining about the ‘trailer park trash’ taking up all the scholarship audition slots and how they don’t belong at their school.

Rage oozed from every pore. I wanted to say something, but the words got lodged in my throat. Not like it would matter. People like that don’t listen. They only care about one thing. Themselves.

I immediately found my boss Katrina and told her due to personal issues I wouldn’t be able to work here anymore. She took it well enough. She looked like she was expecting it.

I guess it was harder than I thought to hide my lack of interest. I tried my best to be present and do a good job, but it wasn’t easy.

Last night Hart reminded me about my open invite to his parent’s house for dinner. And well, it sounded nice.

I know Hart is leaving after graduation. He’ll be off at training camp or wherever he goes once he’s drafted. I’ll be left behind. Again. It would be smart to remember this.

It’s hard to do whenever he’s kissing me or holding my hand. Or when he brings me coffee in the morning or stays up all night watching my favorite murder documentaries with me even though I know he’s exhausted from practice.

Hart keeps saying we’re starting something good. I believe him. I feel it every time we’re together.

Good things don’t last for people like me.

Sydney has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing when I’m stressed out. Last night she started pulling ingredients for brownies and mixing bowls out before I even said anything.

I poured my heart out to her while we scraped remnants of raw brownie batter out of a bowl. Sydney insists I’m the one who needs to be careful with Hart and not the other way around. I don’t get it. I mean, I’m me. A little nobody. And Hart is one of the most popular guys on campus.

I’m not ignorant of all the stares we receive when we walk to classes together. I’ve heard the words ‘lucky bitch’ whispered behind my back on more than one occasion. I’m aware I’m the underdog in the story. I have been my entire life.

Even when my mom was alive, we were the underdogs together. Fighting every day to keep our heads above water. I get all my fight from her. She taught me how to be strong.

Sitting on his front steps, bag of brownies in hand, I’m questioning myself. Am I doing the right thing? He has no idea I’m waiting for him to get home from baseball practice. I’m glad no one is home yet. I need a few minutes to get my head and my heart on the same page.

The rumble of an engine draws my attention to the parking lot. Hart’s car pulls in beside mine. Through the windshield I’m met with three very different expressions. Wyatt looks amused to see me sitting here. Koa seems intrigued. And Hart is a mix of surprise and concern.

I shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. Is he worried about me? Or is he upset that I’m here and now he has to either tell me to leave or bring me with him?

Hart says something to the guys. They scramble out of the car, grab their gear, and pass by me saying a quick hello on their way into the house.

Hart slips out of the car. He doesn’t bother grabbing his gear. He beelines it straight to me instead. His hat is backwards taming his curly hair. His shirt is still sweat stained and plastered on him like a second skin.

I stand from where I’m sitting on his stoop. I’m a step above him, and I still have to bend my neck back to look him in the eye. "Brujita." His deep voice rumbles, shaking my core. “Why are you here?” He asks as his hands find the sides of my face. His kiss is gentle, yet my legs still tremble.

“I thought I would come to dinner after all.”

“What about work?”

“I quit.”

“You quit?”

“Yes, I make enough at Ray’s. I’ll have more time for school and the kids.” I’ll have more time for you.

“Come inside. Tell me everything while I shower.” My eyes go wide. Liquid heat pools between my legs at the thought of Hart naked in the shower. “You can join me if you want, brujita.”

He’s joking right? Hart kisses the top of my head. Then spins me around toward the door. I grab my purse and the bag of brownies.

“Why are you stressed, cariño?”

“How did you know?” He tips his head toward my hand. I follow him upstairs to his room. I’ve been in their place a few times when I came with Sydney, but I’ve never been upstairs.

“Oh, right. No, I’m not stressed. Not anymore now that I’ve made my decision. I’m happy.”

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