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CHAPTER SIX
Liv
Liv’s muscles screamed with every step down the school hallway. A few of the kids noticed how she hobbled around and got a good laugh out of it.
Her arms had felt like Jell-O the night before as she’d forced them through another round of mock punches. Her third Krav Maga class had been no easier than the first. If anything, she’d struggled even more because every muscle in her body burned from the last workout.
But she had something to prove, didn’t she? Her body couldn’t hold her back anymore.
Bright and observant as he was, Devon didn’t miss her pitiful movements. He shook his head with a quiet laugh as she shuffled to the smartboard.
She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him one-on-one since his unsettling analysis in class last Wednesday. This week, though, he acted more like himself again. He could have been having a bad day. Everyone gets melancholy from time to time. Now he was back to sporting his killer smile, flirting with the girls, and more than ready to discuss the reading of 1984.
She still had things to talk to him about. He probably didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life—he was only a junior—but if he played his cards right, he could get a full scholarship to any school in the state. He was smart, worldly, and quick on his feet. Her mission before the end of next year would be to help him channel his gifts into a stellar ACT score and an unforgettable college application essay. If she could convince him to go to college in the first place.
She stopped him after class before he could make it out the door. “Hey. You got a second?”
He nodded to his friend, Justin, before turning back to her. “What’s going on, Miss Turner? Everything okay with my essay?”
She gestured for him to sit down and cocked her hip against her desk right in front of him. “Have you given any thought to the summer ACT prep class I told you about?”
He shrugged lazily. “Nah. Those tests aren’t for me.” He slouched in the chair, affecting an air of nonchalance she didn’t believe for a minute. “You should be talking to Terese about this stuff.” The girl who always took a front row seat in class was his only equal in smarts.
“Terese has already taken her ACTs, and she’s working on applying for early admission to Mercer University. This isn’t about her. We’re talking about you.” She pursed her lips. “Devon, you’re one of the brightest students I’ve ever had. You can do anything with your life. If you do well on your ACTs, you can go to college on a scholarship. You can study whatever you want. Be whatever you want.”
His shoulders tensed, and he sat up in his chair. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my family needs me here. College isn’t in the cards.”
“There are schools right here in Atlanta—Georgia Tech, Morehouse. I don’t know your family situation—”
“It’s complicated.” He rubbed his forehead.
“Family can definitely be.” She knew firsthand, but at least Will and Iz had always put her future first. “They can be infuriating and frustrating, and they can also surprise you sometimes. Have you talked to them about this?”
“No, but—”
“Then you don’t really know for sure how they’ll react. Maybe there’s a way to give everyone what they need. I’d be happy to talk to—”
“No.” He smacked his hand on the desk, knocking a pencil to the floor.
She took a step back, and Devon shook his head ruefully.
“Look,” he softened his voice. “I know you mean well.” He rose to his feet and walked to the door. He stopped without turning to face her. “But give me some space, okay?” He didn’t wait for her answer before disappearing into the hallway with his friend.
Damn.
She packed up her things at half-speed, replaying her conversation with Devon. She knew nothing about his family situation, but she would find out. Tomorrow, she’d meet with his guidance counselor, see what he knew. The end of the school year was right around the corner.
In the meantime, she wanted a drink.
The minute she stepped into her apartment, she dropped her bag and went straight for the good wine she usually reserved for weekends. Parking her ass in one of the kitchen chairs, she took a generous sip. Any second now, it would do the trick.
She glanced at the empty chair beside her. Took in the silence of the room. Drinking alone—so fucking cliché.
Dumping the rest of the glass in the sink, she ordered a Lyft and waited out front for the driver to arrive. She had her license back—Will had left in the mailbox as she’d demanded—but if she drank, she didn’t drive. Within five minutes, she walked through the door at Moe’s.
Maybe some part of her hoped she’d see Brick there again, even if it wasn’t logical. She’d never seen him there before the night they met. He’d probably only come for the party. Still, she scanned the room for his face.
A fickle emotion like hope rarely made sense. Old Liv only did things if they made sense.
