Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I glare at the boring brick buildings, half faded from the sun and the rest splattered with pigeon shit just waiting for the winter rain to wash it away. The windows are standard with cream-colored drapes, some stained an ugly sort of yellow from too much exposure to the light. There is a pretty fountain in the center of the common area, but the water smells like chlorine and the flowers surrounding it died two weeks into the semester, so it’s not all that nice to look at anymore.
If I didn’t have my job at the crystal shop, I would lose my fucking mind. The only reason I tolerate school is so I can be with Ben. Last year was really rough without him and I don’t want to do that again, so I’ll suck it up and do my best not to tank all my classes and lose the scholarship I never should have gotten but somehow did…even when I didn’t apply for it. The financial aid lady said I have to keep a C average to hang in there, and even though I do try to pay attention, I’m barely making it right now. I’m just uninterested.
Maybe I’m meant to be one of those people who travels the country living in a chic little van with fairy lights and a giant beanbag for a bed, making a living off…whatever the hell those people do. I just can’t see myself content with a future full of mandated meetings and strict schedules. I need more than a nine-to-five.
I need more in general.
Shoving the door to the mini café open, I slip into the line. It’s not until I’ve placed my order and stopped to the side that I kick myself in the ass for not scoping out the place before walking in. The second the barista calls my name, he looks over and jumps from his seat to follow me out the door, all while I pretend I don’t hear or see him.
“London!” he shouts. “Hey, Lon, wait up!”
I don’t ‘wait up,’ but he does catch up and I have the sudden urge to bang my head against concrete.
His hand meets my arm and he jerks in front of me, a giant fake smile on his face. “Hey.”
“Trevor. What’s up?” I take a sip of my iced latte.
“I called a couple times this week. Didn’t hear back from you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Yeah, I…” I trail off and you know what, no. “Trevor, we broke up. I’m not really sure why you’re calling me at all.”
His brows snap together as he steps closer. “It’s not like we’re done forever, London. God, don’t be such a bitch.”
A scoffed laugh leaves me, and I tug my head back. “We’re not on some sort of break. Just accept it and let it go already.”
I go to step around him, but he blocks my way.
“Move,” I snap. “I have to get to work and you’re ruining my coffee.”
Trevor slaps the plastic cup from my hands and it hits the ground with a splat, sending a spray of shit up my legs.
I freeze, blinking at him, but he shoulders past, budging my body. I stumble slightly as he leaves, and when my gaze follows his retreating form, a shadow falls over me.
My skin prickles, a shiver starting at the base of my neck and running down the length of my spine. I quickly spin, eyes flying all around, but no one is there.
My cheeks heat, but I’m not sure why, so I force my eyes to close and pull in a lung full of air.
Feeling the slightest bit more settled, I shake my head and face forward.
I’m losing my fucking mind, I swear to god.
I look at my phone seeing it’s too late to go back for another latte, so I kick the fucking cup and suck it up.
Every stupid step sucks more than the last.
I’m excited to spend my day surrounded by crystals and all the calming juju the shop brings me, but facing today without coffee might just make me cry like a bitch.
I’m fucking exhausted.
Hungover.
Confused as shit with the images floating around in my head and admittedly, a bit concerned with my growing boredom.
Sighing, I push through the door into the crystal shop and curve around the back counter to sign in for my shift.
Melinda breezes by in a flash of clinking bracelets and smiles at me, nodding her chin to the space behind me as she disappears around the corner again. “The moon is in slumber, sweet London. Time to shine,” she singsongs her usual randomness before disappearing around another corner, adding, “and some agate beneath your coffee, my dear.”
My brows pull as I shove my bag into the small drawer, and when I spin, my body jolts.
Sitting there on the top of the old wood…is an iced latte with my name on it.