He blows out a breath. “Thank the stars. I gotta have a taste of you.”
His words wet my already soaked panties. I squirm in my seat. He traps my sneaker between his shoes and plays footsie with me under the table. I laugh. This guy. He is sexy one minute and playful the next.
“Tell me why this week is your last at DU. Maybe I can help.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I understand complicated.”
I would love to prove to him how complicated my life is, but I’m running out of time.
Soon, Ty and the guys will realize I’m not in Dumas. They’ll come looking for me when Ty uses his phone app to get my location and find out I’m in a place I should never, ever step foot in. I quickly review in my mind the latest rom-com movies I’ve watched and find a plot I can use.
“I told my brother a small fib that I got into DU on scholarships and grants, but I had private funding that dried up at the end of my junior year. I have loans, but there’s a gap of five thousand. I worked as many hours as I could, but I became sick and was in the hospital with bad pneumonia. The hospital bill is huge. Some of it was forgiven. I’m making payments on the rest. My emergency fund is depleted.” I down my sparkling cider, wetting my parched mouth from the lies I’m telling. “Payment is due by next Friday. If I don’t pay, I can’t continue with my major.”
After graduation, I’ll find Bobby and tell him the truth. I owe it to him for listening.
“Can your brother help?”
“He’ll ask too many questions.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Yes. He’s persistent.”
“Persistence can be a good thing.”
“Not with my brother. He persistently uses my bad decisions as reasons to control my life more than he’s doing now. I can’t give him more ammunition.”
Why did I tell Bobby such a personal thing?
“Talking to you tells me your brother is a good guy. He has your safety and well-being in mind. He’ll understand.”
“He might understand, but he can’t help. His tattoo business isn’t doing well. I would hate to trouble him with money issues.” Another lie. Ty is booked for the next six months. “Do you know people file for bankruptcy because they can’t afford to pay their medical bills?”
“I had no idea. Did you write a report for a class? Is medicine your major?”
There’s genuine curiosity from Bobby, and I like it. Ty has never showed an interest in my classes. He’s after who I’m hanging out with and what kind of trouble I’ve gotten into lately. “Close. I’m pursuing a bachelor’s degree in recreational therapy.”
“Never heard of it.”
“You’re not alone.”
I finish the last of the mozzarella sticks and wipe my mouth with a napkin.
“RTs plan and coordinate treatment programs for people with injuries or disabilities. They’re like physical therapists but use creativity to stimulate the mind rather than working on the physical body. I interned with one last summer, and taking the clients to sporting and community events was eye-opening. It gets them out of their houses and connects them with the outside world. Isolation isn’t good for our minds.”
Carlos loved my plan. He understood how much music and dance helped me grow as a person and feel more connected to the world around me.
“DU is one of the few universities that offer the degree. I had to have a four-point-oh, send in three letters of recommendation, and go through a panel interview.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep.”
“I can’t let you throw your dreams away.”
“I’m sorry, but the dream is mine, not yours,” I remind him.
