Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
"Take your fifteen now, Abby, before the game starts and we get slammed."
I look up from the stack of receipts to see Nancy, the diner's owner, shooing me away as she takes my place in front of the register, plucking the receipts out of my hand. I glance over my shoulder at the large display clock centered below the sign flashing Over Easy in neon red lights. I've been here for five hours already, waiting tables, ringing in orders, mopping up spilled milkshakes, and even hopping in to do dishes since Melvin, our usual dishwasher and busboy, called in sick five minutes before his shift.
I usually don't mind picking up the extra work, but Fridays are always our busiest day, and paired with the basketball game tonight, we're about to get slammed when the remaining part of the student population who isn't at the game inevitably floods into the diner. Especially because O'Malley's is already overflowing with people just down the street, and there aren't many other options around here unless they're willing to drive to get to the next town over. By the look of the snowfall outside, I can't imagine many people are going to opt to drive farther than necessary when we're going to have the game broadcasted on all five of our flat screens.
I pull my phone from the back pocket of my jeans as I walk into the empty ladies' room, swiping through the junk emails and social media notifications, until I finally click on the text Nia sent to our roommate group chat. A picture of basketball players scattered across the court quickly loads, and I immediately recognize Tristan mid-shot, his arms on full display in his jersey. I click out of the picture, and her message pulls a breathy laugh out of me.
Nia: Yesss, this is what I came for. Hot, sweaty men.
I bite the inside of my lip as my fingers tap out my response.
Me: Don't drool too much, babe. Have fun!
Nia: If anyone's drooling, it's Jenny. She's been eye-fucking James Parsons since we sat down.
Jenny: I have NOT.
Nia: I'm sitting right here, babe. Do you think I'm blind?
I slip my phone back into my pocket and slide into a stall, reveling in the first bathroom break I've been able to take since getting here. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes around the quiet room as I button my pants back up, but before I can open the door of the stall, the bathroom door swings open, and the two girls who walk in don't pause their conversation as they stop in front of the mirror.
I freeze when I recognize the voice.
Jackie, Beck's study date from earlier, is standing on the other side of the stall.
"I don't know. He just said he needed to get ready for the game." I can practically feel the pissed-off energy radiating through the bathroom.
"Was this pre- or post-hookup?" The second girl asks as she turns on the faucet.
