Page 1 of Something that Could Last

Abby

I HATE BEINGlate. Loathe it, actually. That’s why I’m panicking, rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off and stumbling around my bedroom, hopping into my shorts one leg at a time. I nearly topple over but manage to catch myself on the bed frame before face-planting into the dresser. For once, I’m thankful for my tiny, cramped room. I throw on my New River Adventures t-shirt and comb through my hair, my nose crinkling at the pungent scent of wood smoke. I douse it with dry shampoo before pulling it over my left shoulder to braid, praying that does the trick. I can’t go into work looking and smelling like I spent half the night in a field drinking moonshine around a bonfire with my friends.

I should have just stayed home. I never should have let Tiff talk me into going to that party. I knew better than to go. I knewhewould be there. A little run-in with my cheating ex was enough to shatter my resolve to stay sober and join Tiff in inebriated oblivion. Once she broke out the shine, it was all over. It was peach flavored, of course. She knows it's my favorite. Tiffany Ann Caseman doesn't play fair, and I kind of love her for it. For a few hours, I could let loose and forget all my troubles. Unfortunately, they all came crashing back this morning. Right on top of my skull.

When my alarm finally startled me awake after hitting snooze a few too many times, I sat bolt upright in my bed. Big mistake. I instantly covered my face with my hands, pressing their heels into my browbone, the pounding in my head a reminder of why I shouldn’t go out drinking when I have to work the next day. I groaned when I peeled one eye open to check the time. Mistake number two. It felt like someone was taking a chisel to my frontal lobe. Against my better judgment, I kicked off my covers, jumped out of bed, and threw my clothes on before dashing into the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Now, five minutes later, I’m brushing my teeth while pouring the steaming brew into my cup.

“Shit!” I screech when scalding hot liquid splashes onto my hand. I clamp my mouth shut around my toothbrush, praying my little outburst didn’t wake my grandmother. She wouldn’t appreciate me cursing in her house.

I run cold water over my reddening skin before pouring enough cream and sugar in my travel mug to color my coffee lighter than the fur on a white-tailed deer. It’s the only way I can choke it down. I’d much rather have a cappuccino, but I don’t have time to stop by the coffee shop, so this will have to do.

I grab my keys and run out the door, already dreading this day. Saturdays are always insanely hectic for me. My day starts early and ends late. Both of my jobs can be physically demanding, and I know my feet will be aching by the end of the night.

Working at New River Adventures wouldn't be so bad if we could just take a turn on the zip line during downtime, but that is severely frowned upon. I won't be making that mistake again. I can't afford to lose this job. The only reason I even have it is because I used to babysit for the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle. They always thought I wasjust wonderfulwith their two children. To be honest, I dreaded watching them. They were spoiled, entitled brats who were too busy tormenting each other to pay much attention to me. Thank the good Lord above for small mercies. I certainly don't miss those days, and I'm glad they’re teenagers now.

Unfortunately, I desperately need the extra money this gig brings in. Waiting tables doesn’t pay enough to cover my living expensesandsave for fall semester. My scholarships and grants barely cover my tuition, but I pay for everything else out of pocket. I try to help my grandmother with the bills, too, since she’s on a fixed income, all while stashing a little away each week for a new vehicle. I don’t know how much longer my old Ford is gonna last, so I need to be prepared when it goes kaput. Since I can’t work much while I'm in school, I have no choice but to work like a dog during summer break and save up.

Agonizing over all my financial woes reminds me that I really shouldn't have skipped my usual five-mile run this morning. I’m a mess; I’m sluggish and irritable. My head is so jumbled up with worries about money, school, and my tiresome employment. A long, grueling run would have cleared my head up just fine. That’s my therapy. All my anxiety and troubles are forgotten when there’s sweat dripping down my face and all I have to focus on is my breathing. Instead, I slept as late as possible and am breaking every speed limit between here and work to get there on time.

I swipe my time card at 8:59 and breathe a sigh of relief. I made it, narrowly avoiding the ensuing anxiety attack. I used to be chronically late for everything when I had to rely on my mother to get me places. It drove me crazy. Everybody stares at you when you walk into class ten minutes after the bell rings. I’ll never forget the angry glare of my teammates after arriving twenty minutes late for the bus to regional finals.

I’m lost in my own thoughts, so I don’t see Caleb approaching me until it’s too late. I’m usually pretty good at avoiding him, ducking out of his sight before he notices me. Maybe if I don't make eye contact, he won't bother me.Please don't talk to me. Please don't talk to me. Please don't ta-

“Hey Abby, how's it goin'?”

Shit!He's such a creeper. He makes my skin crawl and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don't know what it is, but I get an unmistakable, uneasy feeling around him, like he’s capable of doing something awful. The way he’s always brushing up against me, claiming it’s accidental, and how he leers at me while I work makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I just wish we had different schedules. I want to ignore him, but the manners my grandmother instilled in me take over and dictate that I at least acknowledge him. It would be rude not to.

“Fine,” I answer and try to rush past him. He looks as though he's considering grabbing my arm, but stops short when I glare at him with what I hope is a warning look. It must work. He pulls his hand back and straightens his spine, standing at his full height, smiling at me arrogantly before turning to head towards his station. Why can’t he pester one of the other girls and leave me alone? Then again, I wouldn’t wish his creepy fixation on anyone.

Customers start to trickle in, which is a nice distraction from the unsettling feeling left by my interaction with Caleb. People line up, we get them secured on a line, and let them go. Most of the time, people come in pairs or groups and want to go down together on our dual zip lines. With a steady flow of customers most of the morning, I don’t have time to think about how tired I am. When things finally start to slow down, I steal away to the restroom for a much-needed break. After using the facilities, I splash a little cool water on my face and smooth down my flyaways with damp fingers.

As I’m walking back, I pull out my phone to make sure I didn’t miss any calls from my grandmother. As independent as she is, she probably doesn’t need me checking on her so much, but I worry about her being home alone. Since she started having trouble with her health, I try to make sure she can always reach me. With my focus entirely on the screen lit up in my hand, I pay no mind to the path I’m on, having walked it hundreds of times. I let out a tiny shriek when I trip over a downed branch spread across the walkway, my phone flying out of my hands as my body pitches forward. I reach out, grasping for anything to keep me upright and pinch my eyes shut, bracing for impact with the ground, but it never comes. Instead, my fingers brush against something warm and hard as two strong hands wrap around my arm and waist, my skin tingling at every point of contact. Once I steady myself, I look up into the face of my savior and nearly lose my footing again. As his icy blue eyes study me with concern, my whole face heats with embarrassment and I duck my head.

“Are you alright?” His voice slides over me like warm honey.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that,” I stammer. Why do I have to be so damn clumsy today? His hands remain on my body, steadying me. Wriggling myself out of his tantalizing grasp, I feel as though my skin is marked by the heat of his touch.

A sexy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “No problem.”

Ah, that voice again. I need to get away from this guy before I embarrass myself any further. I excuse myself, pluck my phone from the dirt, and head back to my station. I chance one last glance over my shoulder and see him watching me. My cheeks burn with renewed embarrassment, knowing I must look like an idiot.

A few minutes later, I’m back to work, securing a boy who can’t be more than twelve to the line. He’s not making my job easy, squirming with nervous energy and excitement. Awareness prickles my skin and my hands still. Sensing that someone is watching me, I lift my gaze and my heart stutters in my chest.

This time, I’m able to take in every inch of his perfection. He has that all-American look with his dark, sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and mega-watt smile. With chiseled features and a strong jaw, he is a work of art. His fitted t-shirt strains against the sculpted muscles of his chest, arms, and shoulders. And he's tall. I like tall. His eyes rake over me from top to bottom, my toes curling when his gaze reaches them as though it’s a caress instead of a look. My entire body warms, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. I look away, hoping he doesn’t notice my flushed skin.

I’m suddenly self-conscious of my make-up free face and dirty hair. Of course, today would be the day I see the hottest guy in the state of West Virginia, maybe even in the whole damn country.

My attention snaps back to my customer when the sound of retching invades my ears. Vomit splatters onto the toes of my shoes as the young boy empties the contents of his stomach at my feet. I freeze for a moment, trying to suppress my own urge to throw up. The sickly, sweet smell of maple syrup threatens my gag reflux. Poor kid must have eaten half a dozen pancakes. No wonder he blew chunks.

Once the boy’s mom leads him away, I kick as much loose dirt over the pile as I can to cover it. It’s not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I pull my gaze back up, searching for the handsome stranger again. My eyes find his within seconds and he smiles. He’s watching me with a sexy intensity that makes my stomach clench with anticipation. His body jerks, a frown erasing his sexy grin when another man brushes past him, bumping his shoulder. The tall, dark-haired guy mutters something to him and smirks before heading in my direction. They appear to know each other, and I wonder where these two insanely attractive men came from. Heaven? Olympus, maybe?

Once the newcomer is directly in front of me, I can appraise him fully. His black hair and stormy gray eyes are a stark contrast to the other man’s lighter features. He’s tall as well, but with a slightly leaner build. This guy is Tiff's type. Cocky, self-assured, and probably a player. He steps up to me, a look of relaxed confidence on his face.

“Go easy on me. It's my first time.” He winks, an impish, lopsided grin gracing his lips.

I roll my eyes at his attempt at flirtation. “I bet that's what you tell all the girls.”

He laughs, amused by my retort. “No, sweetheart. That's what they all tell me.” Another wink. I just grin and shake my head. This guy is trouble. Trouble wrapped in a very good-looking package.

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