“Yup again.”
“Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Come, sit.” He nods towards the bar. “I bet you could use a drink.”
“Not gonna say no to that,” I say, but pause. “Ah, never mind.”
“It’s on the house,” he chuckles.
I hesitate for a moment. I hate charity, I hate people looking at me with pity. But after the night I had, I don’t have room for pride right now.
“Thanks.” I pull out a stool and take a seat.
“Name’s Cooper, by the way,” he says, pouring me a beer.
“Easton.” I nod. “Thanks,” I say as he places the glass on the bar top.
“I used to attend SVU. Was on the football team, too.”
“Yeah?” I ask, taking a sip.
He nods. “All four years. Got a full-ride scholarship, too.”
“Really?” My brows pull together. “How did you end up owning a bar then?”
He chuckles. “With a lot of hours worked, a supportive father, and some amazing friends.”
Huh, I have no idea how that would feel. I mean, maybe the friends part. They're pretty amazing. But they’re not in much of a better boat than I am.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” I ask, raising a brow.
“What’s your story?”
“I just met you.” I snort.
“I don’t mean your life story," he chuckles. “But I’m going to guess if you’re looking for a job, you're a scholarship student too?”
I nod stiffly.
He pauses for a moment, throwing the dishcloth he was using over his shoulder. “I might have filled the position that was advertised, but I was thinking about looking for a dishwasher. That wouldn’t be something you’d be interested in, would it? You get paid weekly, in cash. It’s part-time, only a few hours a–”
“I’ll take it.”
He raises his brows. “Just like that? Not even going to ask about the pay? What days? How many hours?”
“Pay doesn’t matter. Money is money. But the days... I have games most weekends.”
“Good thing I’m looking for people to work Monday to Wednesdays.” He grins. “It’s from ten to one in the morning. Twenty bucks an hour.”
That’s almost eight hundred a month. That's more than enough, and it’s not hours that would eat into my study time. Sure, I might be tired from running on only five hours of sleep, but it’s only three days a week. I can do it.
“I’ll take it,” I say again.
“Alright then,” he says. “You start tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” I find a reason to smile for the first time today. “You have no idea how much this means.”
“No problem.”
