It was New Year’s Eve, and the few other women I knew were home. Tess and I had stayed in touch since my life had imploded, but she’d gone to Shelby’s house for the holiday. They went on for fucking forever about skiing, bonfires, and hot rich guys before they left. Of course, the women from the women’s studies program had distanced themselves since Thanksgiving when my expulsion from the program became official.
I hadn’t officially seen the guys since Thanksgiving either. Of course, I’d watched a few games from behind the scenes or on TV, but when I thought I saw a basketball player in the vicinity, I went the other way. Luckily, we were knee-deep in studying for finals right about then, and I was busy.
Sort of.
I discovered the Goblet allowed you to order wine by the glass at the bar the night I arrived back at school from Christmas, tired and bone cold off the bus. After that, I started coming regularly before going to work on my current project, which required being loose. Sarina and I met here every few days, and she’d fill me in on what I needed to know. It was quickly becoming a formidable bond between the two of us—two women from opposite ends of the social spectrum with nothing in common.
Tonight, I ordered a prosecco; after all, it was New Year’s. When in Rome, and all that. Sarina was at a party. She’d invited me but I declined, offering to pick up a shift for her at the studio.
Staring into the bubbly set before me, I smoothed my hair behind my ear. I’d straightened it using my new flat iron, and the lights above the bar were reflecting off its shine. I took out my new smartphone and checked my e-mails. There were a lot, so I scrolled down for a while.
Sarina’s picture came up on the screen, her long blond curls waved around her face and neckline, her blue eyes cool and collected, her lips a shiny hot pink and puckered.
SARINA: Hey, girl! Hope you have an awesome new year. You’re the best!
I smiled. She thought I was the best, and I thought she was even better. What would Stanwick think about that?
CATIE: Have fun, lady! I’ll see you this week? Happy NYE!
SARINA: See you tomorrow!
I sipped my drink slowly and thought about my next stop. In a million years, I could have never imagined spending a day in my life doing what I was doing. Yet here I was, doing it on New Year’s Eve. My dad would have a fit, my sisters would never stop talking about it, and Blane . . . he would be disgusted.
Or not. I didn’t know.
Sadly, I’d lost a portion of my financial aid when I was dismissed from my major. A component of my aid package was based on the intrinsic value I brought to Hafton’s women’s studies program. The monies were derived from a fund, earmarked by the benefactor for the sole purpose of crafting women leaders.
Luckily, my mind continued to form a plan that started with Mean Beans and ended during my trip to the adult store. My original plan was to find part-time work and seek revenge on Stanwick. Little did I know the two concepts would merge and begin to sustain me in this journey.
Hafton was on a trimester calendar, and when the first trimester ended, I left campus for a studio apartment. It brought a little bit of a savings for my dad when it came to room and board, and it provided me with the privacy I required. And craved.
Sitting at the bar, deep in thought as I made mental notes for the book I was writing, I didn’t hear someone slide in next to me.
“Hey.”
Frowning, I swiveled toward the voice. “Mo, how are you?”
The large guy planted on a stool to my left took me by surprise, especially as he sat there in a black leather sports coat, his dark eyes focused on me.
“I’m good. We play tomorrow, so I have to head out soon, but I brought my lady out for a New Year’s beverage . . . forgetting she couldn’t drink because she’s knocked up. I’m an idiot like that.”
He tipped his head to the back of the bar where a stunning mixed-race woman sat sipping on a glass of club soda. Her hair was down, wavy and wild, and her cleavage practically burst out of a black halter top. She certainly didn’t look prego to me, but what the hell did I know?
“I’m sure you’re having fun anyway,” I responded, swallowing a lump of regret.
I’d only talked to Maurice once before at the team party back in November, and he seemed nice enough. But that wasn’t my scene anymore. Actually, it had never been my scene. I’d only hung out with cool college athletes once.
Mo studied me. “So, what’s the story? My man says you dropped off the face of the earth, and here you are toasting the New Year by yourself?”
“I’m doing some soul searching, finding my own way, figuring shit out—pardon my language. Blane didn’t need all that baggage. He’s got a life of grandeur ahead.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Catie.” Mo patted my shoulder and stood up. “I have to get back to my lady. Happy New Year.”
“Same to you.”
I tossed a twenty on the bar and got up. It was time for me to do what I needed to do.
With my bag tucked under my shoulder, I entered the warehouse. “Hey, Frank,” I hollered as I headed toward the back, my boots clunking on the cement floor.
“Hey, girl. Thanks for coming in tonight, Ari.”