Celeste raised a brow. “And how would you know?”
My mouth twisted to the side as I tried to think of a comeback.
“How long has it been since he…you know?”
“Since he stood me up and ignored my messages for weeks?” I filled in. “You can say it. I won’t curl up and cry.”
Though, I had wanted to when it first happened.
Celeste held up her hands, pleading innocence. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to make him sound like a complete douche, but if the shoe fits.”
“It was five months ago. I’ve forgiven him,” I informed her. “And he had a reasonable explanation.”
There’d been an accident, and he’d been in the hospital. He didn’t go into too much detail, but I trusted MidQuest, weirdly enough. We hadn’t met face-to-face, hadn’t spoken outside of my streams. He knew what I sounded like and vaguely what I looked like—I used an illustration instead of a camera for streams. But I had nothing more than his screen name. Despite that, I only needed his word, and I was satisfied.
“Over a year of knowing him and not meeting yet, you’re still checking for this guy?” Celeste unzipped my bag and tossed a thin T-shirt in my direction.
“We’re friends.”
“No,we’refriends.” She gestured between herself and me. “He’s an online acquaintance who’s probably catfishing you.”
I snorted. “Mid’s not catfishing me.”
“Excuse me if I find it hard to believe a guy on the Internet.”
I laughed. Celeste had a point—she always did. I was usually more cautious when investing my time in people. I had little to waste. I was a broke, orphaned college student who’d still be living in her car if her best friend didn’t catch her trying to use dry shampoo on a week-old twist-out.
“I agree with one sentiment this guy has,” Celeste said. “You need to prioritize yourself. Stop taking shitty jobs like this one. You know my parents and I got you.”
My smile came easily. The Able family had my back. Saved me from being homeless for the past year. Offered me more than food and shelter, but a safe place where I could explore hobbies like streaming. And earlier this week, offered to rent me a room in one of their houses near campus, so I could get a traditional college experience.
The T-shirt I pulled over my head ruined my baby hairs, so I pulled on the Einstein Arena cap to hide the chaos. “I know, Celeste. You guys have been the best, and I’m forever grateful.”
“So, why are you pushing yourself so hard?”
I needed to learn to stand on my own. No handouts. No aids. If growing up with my mother taught me anything, it was that people who knew how to do shit on their own survived in this world. I wasn’t always going to be lucky and find people like the Ables. People wouldn’t keep saving me. I’d have to learn how to save myself.
I didn’t tell Celeste this, of course. I gave her my trademark wide smile and said, “You know I love a challenge. Plus, this is a cool venue. I got to seeDisney on Iceand some Olympic skaters for free.”
“At what cost mentally?” Celeste nudged my puke-stained sneakers with her own bright white pair.
“I’m also building character and new skills.” There was a bright side to my situation. I always found a bright side because I couldn’t afford to do the opposite. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I did the opposite.
“Come on.” I finished buttoning up my uniform shirt. It was wet and wrinkly, but it’d have to do. “I’ll get the girl working concession to sneak us some soft pretzels.”
Celeste sighed but followed. “I can’t turn down carbs. It’s against my moral code.”
“That’s the spirit,” I cheered, and grabbed my mop and bucket.
The hall to the storage room got little traffic in the middle of events. So, when I swung the door open, I didn’t think there’d be someone on the other side. The crash and sound of someone cursing debunked my assumption in a blink of an eye.
I covered my mouth when I saw two guys standing on the other side of the door. One bent over, holding onto his nose. The other tried to keep a straight face as he asked his friend if he was okay.
“Oh, my God.” I held out a hand but didn’t touch the guy. Even bent over, I could tell he was as tall as me. The hard muscle of his arms contrasted with the softness of his core. His brown curls reached past his ears, covering his face as he tried to recover from my unintentional attack. I caught sight of the bright red on his hand when he finally stood upright and tilted his head back.
“You good, man?” the friend asked. He was slimmer but as long-limbed as his companion. His skin was russet-brown, and his black hair cut close to his scalp.
“I’m fine,” the bleeding guy said in a clipped tone, waving off his friend.
