5. Don’t Care
I left campus before classes ended, making a brief stop to Ms. Jessica's office to leave her lost slipper at her door. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone around to demand an explanation so I high tailed it out of there right away.
The weather was still pleasant, streets relatively quiet as I plugged in my earphones. I zoned out a bit, humming to Bodak Yellow as I walked home. A good fifteen minutes later I was stepping into our small apartment.
The top floor of the tiny yellow brick house consisted of two bedrooms, a bathroom and a minuscule living room attached to the kitchenette. There wasn't that much furniture but I tried making it as homely as possible.
A while back I'd had extra cash and bought a few portrait frames and put up some of the paintings I'd painted. In the hall was the painting of my first pack run, gray fur smeared against the black background, feral eyes glowing candles under the shinning moon. There was also one of my better works, a realistic painting of my mom with Will Smith. Since she adored him- maybe even more than me- it was proudly displayed in the living room.
The kitchen held most of my childhood drawings, funny little things that never ceased to embarrass me. The colorful colors on the paper seemed especially off in the bland white kitchen but Mom refused to take them down. I gave up on trying to convince her, she was normally aloof but when she stood her ground she was like a boulder.
I flipped on the kitchen lights, washed my hands before checking our fridge. Nothing edible. I put water in the kettle and put it on the stove, opened a cupboard and took out a cup of instant ramen noodles. The kettle hadn't whistled yet but I poured the boiling water in the plastic cup anyway. I covered it, tapping my fingers while I waited.
I checked my watch, past eleven am. My shift at Crunch started in thirty minutes. I gave it a bit more time and then dug in, finishing up my scalding noodles in four minutes tops. I gulped down some water and tip toed to my room. Mom was usually asleep around this time, she worked a night shift which meant twelve hours at the twenty-four hour diner thirty miles from here. I tried to be as quiet as a ghost during the days I was home in the afternoon.
Silently, I slipped inside my bedroom. The room was shabby, but mine nonetheless. I had every surface of the walls covered in drawings and comic strips. The headboard of my bed was a rainbow of colored posted notes with small reminders, a small desk present besides the window where I drew my digital comics. Next to it was my closet.
I rummaged through it now, pulling out a pair of newer jeans and a white blouse. My fingers hesitated on a piece of red garment. The mini skirt my mom bought me last week, the one I hadn't mustered the courage to put on even in my own room. It was pretty, reaching mid-thigh and would look flaming hot. On someone else.
I shut my closet, changed quickly and hurried out.
Big boobs.
I glared at the round pair, loathing them and the person they belonged to. Helen Laurence was your classic beautiful blonde with mile long legs, perfectly coordinated outfits and high heels she could cat walk in anywhere. Her makeup was forever flawless, hair tumbling elegantly to one side of her shoulder as she leaned in and nuzzled Kane's ear.
Ugh.
I turned, set down their drinks with a blank expression. Darius, one of my all-time tormentors and Kane's best friend, winked at me. Just like his comrade, he was a handsome fiend. Curly brown hair, a boyishly charming smile complete with dimples. Even his cloths were swoon worthy, the black leather jacket and ripped jeans probably had half the females in the restaurant sighing. But I knew better than to fall for the looks.
I ignored him, gestured to the menu. "Have you decided what you want yet?"
"Are you the one cooking?"
Reluctantly, I glanced at Helen. She was practically sitting on his lap now, her arms wrapped around his muscled shoulders. His eyes were on me.
Blinking, I looked down at the menu on the table. "No, we have a chief for that." Obviously, douchebag.
"Do you even know how to cook?" Darius asked, leaning back and swinging an arm over his seat.
Not this again... So much for them finding maturity, I scoffed internally. Outside I bit my lip, shuffling my feet.
Why, oh why did they have to show up here? Crunch was owned by a pack member, Rick Halter, but it was a normal restaurant. There was business but it wasn't exactly a fancy place. We were a staff of four with Rick as the cook and two other waitresses. Not precisely the high class places I knew this trio frequented, but granted, the food smelled divine. I hadn't gotten the chance to taste a dish yet since I just started working last week but the smells alone had my stomach grumbling on several occasions.
Twenty more minutes and I could go home and put together a proper meal, I promised myself. But I knew I was lying, I've been working for a good six hours. My feet were aching and my back was stiff as a board. I'd crash the moment I crawled in bed. Ian would have to drag me out if he wanted me to punch that troll.
And right now I didn't have the patience for these nincompoops. Yet me getting angry and lashing out, only so they could put me in my place was exactly what they'd enjoy. I clamped a lid on my irritation, mentally taped it shut.
"Your order?" I asked monotonously.
"I've always wondered, does it hurt you in some way?" Darius raised his eyebrows at me, pointed a finger across him at Kane and Helen. "Seeing those two together?"
I gulped.
Helen giggled, the evil step sister kind of giggle. "Who cares? Her feelings don't matter, do they, Ember?"
Hit her over the head with the tray.
My fingers tightened over said tray, but I didn't bash her with it. It would be stupid, and no matter what kind of taunting she was doing, I'd still be found in the wrong.
"Ember?"
I didn't have to look at her to see the smile plastered on those pink lips. "No, they don't," I replied.
"There's another thing I've been wondering," Darius smirked, straightening. His hand shot out, pulled my arm and I was sitting in the same booth as him. He rested a chin on top of my head. "How would Kane react if the tables were turned?"
Frozen by shock, I shifted my gaze to Kane. Expecting what, I don't know. There was nothing on his face.
Even though my blood boiled- against my better judgment- whenever he was with Helen, it wasn't the case for him. I shouldn't have been surprised, he'd already made it clear how he felt about me.
He threw his menu on the table in front of me. "I'll take whatever Helen is having."
Darius sighed, letting go of me. I stood up awkwardly. "You're no fun at all, Kane."
My voice was clogged in my throat, my eyes stinging involuntarily. I blinked, pushed my glasses upwards. "What-"
"I'll take it from here, Ember," said a voice.
I turned, found a frowning Rick. He took my tray from me, gave me a light push. "Go on, you can clock out early today."
I didn't argue further. I just barely resisted scurrying away with my tail between my legs, noticing the stares I was garnering from other customers and Lee, one of the waitresses. She gave me a sympathetic smile.
I gave her the stink eye. It wasn't nice, but I couldn't help it. Sympathy was something directed towards the weak and there was nothing in the world I hated more than being regarded that way.
Sympathy was for weak omegas.