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She smiles, her face softening . “Oh, okay. Sorry. It’s just been a long day. I work nights at the Golden Pony and—”
“You work at a bar?”
Her eyes widen. “Uh, well, yes... I don’t really drink, but it helps pay the bills. Laura usually lets me go a little early. I have a neighbor keep an eye on Dorian...”
This woman works at my friend’s place, takes care of her younger brother, and now she’s telling me she works at a bar, too?
This is a sophomore level class. “How old are you?”
Ms. Everett’s cheeks flush. “Twenty-three... I’ll be twenty-four next February.”
I nod. At least she is not underage. But why the hell is she responsible for her twelve-year-old brother? She should be living her adult life on her own, not being responsible for her brother as she seems to be and working two jobs.
I’m just about to open my mouth and ask when students begin to file in for the next class. I inwardly cringe as the load of football players hop over the theater style chairs, crashing over and laughing. I know they’re just kids—well, young adults—but damn, it’s surprising they don’t break things.
“Who are you?” One of them lands right next to Ms. Everett. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”
I roll my eyes and go back to my laptop on the desk, switching back to the beginning of the PowerPoint presentation.
Honestly, sometimes it’s grueling to go through the same exact information back-to-back, but it could be worse...
And the second time is usually more eloquent than the first.
“So, you busy tonight?” The guy’s voice drifts over to me as he asks her. “I could use a date to my buddy’s party. You’re definitely hot enough to serve as arm candy.”
What is wrong with youth these days? Is this what she likes?
“No, thank you. I have to work tonight.”
Is it my impression or is she being curt with him?
“Where do you work? I bet it’s at the Blue Diamond Cabaret. You’re hot enough to be one of the girls.”
What the hell? Who does this guy think he is?
I grit my teeth. Ineverget involved in my students’ issues unless things escalate to a place where it’s necessary, but this guy is pushing it.
“First of all, I’mnota stripper. Second of all, please leave me alone. I’m trying to work on my homework. Maybe you should go sit somewhere else.” Her boldness is impressive and surprising.
Looking at her, she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who likes confrontation, but apparently, she doesn’t take shit either.
It makes me respect her that much more.
“Whatever.” The guy stands, sulking, and makes his way back to his group of friends.
They’re all laughing and snickering, but my attention is fully on Ms. Everett.
Her eyes are on her work, and she pays no attention to the guys. That, in and of itself, is different than most of the young women who step into my classroom.
The football players are borderline celebrities of the university, and most of the girls almost trip themselves over them—even when they act like imbeciles.
I glance up at the clock as it strikes the hour. “Okay, class, let’s all settle down and get started.”
And just like that, the whole room goes silent.
It takes everything I have to focus on the lecture, my eyes diverting to take in the sight of Ms. Everett, bent over her laptop, supposedly working to finish her homework.
Every so often, she rubs her eyes or brushes her hair from her eyes. The more I look, the more I realize just how fatigued the woman appears. The circles beneath her eyes aren’t exactly noticeable nor do they take away from her beauty, but they’re there.
