Page 4 of Mad Rivals
My purse flies off my shoulder, and the contents go flying all over the sidewalk as my knee skids across the jagged, rough pavement. It rips a hole in my leggings, and blood is already starting to drip from the spot.
It hurts like fuck, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment that I fell like an idiot.
Nobody bends down to help me pick up my shit despite the fact that there are multiple people who got off at this stop and others waiting to get on. They step around the idiot on the ground instead.
They’re surviving, too. They’re just trying to get through the day.
I gather everything up and scurry along the four blocks back to the apartment as best I can with a wounded knee. It’s not broken, but it’s definitely in pain.
Kind of like my spirit.
This isn’t the life I want, and as I walk through the front door and drop my purse with a dramatic thud by the door, Clem springs up from her spot on the couch. I’m blocked by a little half-wall, so she hasn’t seen the wound yet.
“Oh, good! You’re home,” she calls. “Ready to get cooking?”
I burst into tears, and she rushes over to me. She spots the hole in my leggings, and her eyes grow wide.
“Oh my God, Kenny! What happened? Are you okay?”
“Someone robbed me on the bus and my wallet and Kindle are gone and I didn’t have any money to get our stuff for dinner and then I fell and I hate my life,” I wail at her, and she grabs me into a hug as she soothingly rubs my back.
“Shh, shh, it’ll be okay,” she says gently.
This isn’t the first time she’s taken care of me—or vice versa. We were assigned as roommates at Loyola our freshman year, and the quirky and fun Clementine Carter became my instant best friend.
We shared the same major—visual communications—and took most of our classes together throughout our four years.
We’ve lived together since we graduated—going on five years now—both of us determined to live in the city we love so much as we make our own path separate from our parents.
I did that by snagging a graphic design position right out of college. I hate it.
She did it by finding a job working retail. She hates it even more than me.
We’ve struggled for five entire years to make ends meet, but the events of today just made me realize one very important lesson.
I don’t want to just make ends meet.
I’m sick of this life.
I need to change it, and I want Clem to come with me.
I never wanted to be handed the job my parents have reserved for me my entire life, but I think right now…it may be my only choice.
CHAPTER 3: Kennedy Van Buren
Wild Nights with a Stand-Up Guy
“Are you happy?” I ask Clem after I’ve changed into sweats and cleaned up my knee.
She poured us each a bowl of some off-brand Cheerios, and I guess that’s dinner tonight.
She twists her lips. “Truth?”
“Always.”
She shakes her head. “No. Not even a little.”
“Me either,” I admit.
