IOU: A Romantic Comedy Page 4

  “Do you need any help?”

  That’s Bostic, not Asshole.

  My head drops to my chest in a big sigh. “I don’t know.” This is all happening so fast. It’s like I’m living someone else’s life. My room. My things. I’ve spent the last two years within these four walls and in seconds it’s all gone.

  I take a seat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. “I don’t have anywhere to take all this stuff. What am I supposed to do with my bed?” I mean, really. What’s the point in packing? I have nowhere to put it. Maybe I should give it away? Or perhaps I should drop out and go home. Find a community college closer to home where I’ll have food in my belly and a roof over my head.

  I look up at Bostic through bleary eyes.

  I’m not going to cry. I can handle this. Think of it like when you had a Father’s Day event at school and no father to have doughnuts with you. The initial pain hurts, but you get used to it. Eventually, you won’t even care.

  “We’ll figure it out, kiddo. Right now, just grab what you need for the next few days.” Bostic says this like he has a plan, or maybe he’s just saying what he thinks I need to hear, so I don’t lose my shit again and cause another fire.

  Either way, he’s right. There’s nothing I can do about the bed and the larger items. Essentials. I just need essentials until I figure out my next step. I don’t really want to go home, but if I have to, I have to. The important thing is I can’t let Tucker win. He can’t know that he’s turned my life inside out. He can’t see that I have no idea who I am at the moment or what I plan to do with myself.

  Tucker just needs to see me pack up clothes and makeup. Oh. And a toothbrush—definitely a toothbrush.

  I nod. “You’re right. I’ll find a new roommate in no time. We’ll just hope Taylor doesn’t stash a dead fish in the mattress before I return.”

  Bostic’s eyes go wide, like the viciousness of women is new to him. Ha. He has no idea.

  I wave off my comment. “I doubt she will, though. She’s a vegetarian. Touching a fish is like wearing drugstore foundation to her. Just forget I said anything.”

  His nod is slow and wary, but he seems to move on from it after a few pained seconds.

  “We can load up my truck with as much as we can fit today. I can ask some of the guys to come back and help take the bed apart. I could store it in my garage for the time being.”

  Ah, shit. See? I knew I scared him with all the dead fish talk and watery eyes.

  “Don’t worry about it, Boss—” Ooh. I like that nickname. “It’ll be okay. You’ve already done so much for me.”

  He scoffs, but I ignore it and go back to shoving the contents of my dresser into my suitcase. Stuffing in everything I can, I finally manage to zip up my suitcase with Bostic’s help.

  “All done,” I say, taking one last look around.

  Bostic nods, grabs the suitcase with one hand, and proceeds out to the living room with a firm grunt and a “Let’s go.”

  Can we just note that he doesn’t bother with engaging the wheels? It’s like he doesn’t want anything slowing our exit from this hellhole.

  Let’s also note that Bostic needs a stuffed sea lion named after him. Pronto.

  I refrain from flipping Tucker and Taylor off as we pass by, but then I feel a soft touch at my elbow. “Ainsley. I’m—”

  “Get your hands off of her.”

  And that’s why his nickname is Boss.

  I let a smirk stretch out over my face as Tucker slowly backs away with his hands up. Bostic’s growl is pretty freaking scary.

  “Do not come near her ever again,” he threatens, looking from Tucker to Taylor. “Either of you.”

  They both nod but it’s forced. They don’t want to piss off the big man, but they haven’t finished saying all they need to say to me, and that’s fine. I sure as shit have more I would like to say to them, but I won’t. Not now. Because whatever I did to deserve Bostic’s help at this moment, I’d like to keep it. And him, because he’s just amazing.

  Without another word, Bostic turns and heads out the front door. I follow dutifully but not before placing my hand behind my back and flipping off the two love birds. Screw them.

  “You can shower at the fire station,” says Bostic, descending the stairs with a hundred-pound suitcase hanging from his fist.

  “Are we eating breakfast there too?”

  He pauses when we reach the bottom of the stairs. “Yes. Is that okay?”

  Uh, yeah, it’s okay—more than okay actually. I’m starving.

  And okay, for those of you who are skeptical, I know all the talks about stranger danger, and I don’t plan on getting a ride in Bostic’s truck, no matter how helpful he’s been. But the fire station can’t be that bad, right? I mean, they do background checks on these guys. If there was any place I could shower and get some breakfast, the fire station should be on the list as being safe. I figure if the law allows you to leave your baby there, then they have to be good guys, right?

  “Yep. That sounds good to me. I’ll even wash dishes as payment for letting me squat for the morning.” I’m not a taker. I’ll do my fair share.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  I shrug when he starts walking again. “The offer stands should you change your mind,” I call out to his back.

  Bostic shakes his head like he isn’t sure what to do with me. And that’s fine. Most people aren’t. I’ve grown accustomed to it.

  “Come on.” He tosses my bag in the truck. “Do you know how to get to the station?”

  “Nope.” GPS could probably help, but there are several fire stations around here. What if I pick the wrong one? I doubt they have the station numbers listed on the map.

  Bostic rubs his forehead like a headache is brewing. “Follow me then.”

  I can do that. “Yes, sir.”

  I’m betting he regrets offering me anything at this point. And while I’m still in a state of shock, I realize that maybe my eccentric personality could have been part of the issue between Tucker and me. Tucker is calm. Reserved. Well-bred, so to speak. Not that I’m not well-bred, but I can’t tell you who is a pro golfer and what charity my mom donates to every year. Tucker is exceptionally well-rounded. That’s it. Well-rounded. And well, I’m not.

  An ache in my chest knots up under my underwire. Today is a new day, though. Today, I can be anyone I want to be. I can start over. I don’t have to worry about impressing anyone or worrying if they like me or not.

  I simply don’t answer to anyone anymore.

  It’s a freeing feeling.

  At least I hope it will be a freeing feeling once the ache in my chest wears off.

  “Are you coming?” Bostic’s truck is running, and I’ve yet to get into my car.

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” Because I’m free and Tucker doesn’t get to tell me if this is an awful decision.

  “These are the best-scrambled eggs I’ve ever had,” I mumble between chews.

  The chef of the morning, Kyle, grins, finally sitting down at the eight-person table.

  I’ve already showered, and I’ve had two cups of coffee. I feel almost human again.

  “Thank you. It’s an old family recipe,” he returns.

  Chokes and thinly veiled snickers echo around the table.

  “Do not let the rookie lie to you, Ainsley. His first kitchen duty ended with us putting out a fire in our own house.”

  Kyle’s cheeks redden as his coworker, Luke (super-hot, by the way), ribs him from across the table. “It was the first time we had a fire in the station. We caught shit from the other stations for weeks.”

  All the guys laugh, and I feel the need to let Kyle know he isn’t alone. “I set my curtains on fire last night.” I shrug, catching his gaze. “But you probably knew that already. I’m just saying people do it all the time. Set their kitchens on fire, I mean. If they didn’t, I guess they wouldn’t need you guys, huh? Job security and all that.”

  The table goes quiet until
Luke pushes back in his chair, resting his plate of eggs on his chest, a pretty incredible balancing act to witness. “Tell me, Ainsley, did you at least get a hit in on the prick before we got there?”

  It takes me a minute, but I finally understand what he’s referring to. I grin. “You mean, did I hit Tucker before you arrived?”

  Luke nods.

  “Sadly, no. With all the chaos of the alarms, I just yelled at him, and it wasn’t even a good yell.”

  Don’t ask me what a good yell consists of. I doubt I really know, but I feel like it would make me feel better. Like, I wouldn’t still feel this weight sitting on my chest—this sadness that feels like if I just stop for a minute, it’ll take over and consume me.

  I look at Bostic and notice his jaw working extra hard, chewing his eggs. I guess I’m done here. I’ve effectively ruined their breakfast. I shovel the last bit of eggs down and push out of my chair. “Thank you for breakfast and”—I finger my wet hair—“the shower.” I look at Bostic. “I promise to find a place today and get my bag out of the storage closet.”

  Bostic grunts but doesn’t pull his eyes from the table. “Give Kyle your plate.”

  I glance at Kyle, who looks like he’s used to cleaning up the table. “That’s okay. I can wash it.”

  “Ainsley. Give Kyle your plate.” He pushes up from the table. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Okay. I guess there is no room for arguing. Boss is all boss when we’re at the firehouse. I nod to Luke and the others. “It was nice meeting you all. Thanks for letting me crash your night and your morning.”

  Luke is the only one who laughs. “Anytime. We could use some fun around here.”

  Or the crazy, but he’s kind enough not to specify.

  Bostic guides me down the hall—I certainly haven’t gotten my bearings—and leads me to the parking lot. “You’ll come by for dinner, and I’ll help you take your things to your new place.” It’s not a question. His stare is a warning that I better not sleep in my car again.

  “Will do. And if I don’t—”

  “You will.”

  I wave off his glare and bossy tone. “Let me finish.” Geez. “If I don’t find a place to stay, I promise I will actually call a friend and stay with them.”

  One of his eyebrows rises a fraction. He doesn’t believe me. That’s okay because I’m lying.

  “I promise,” I add for good measure.

  Forgive me. I had to lie to him. I know it’s an awful thing to do to your newfound guardian angel, but the fact is I don’t have any friends to call. If I’m unsuccessful at finding a place today, I’ll have to sleep in my car. I literally do not have anywhere else to go. I’m almost two hours from home: no family, no friends, and no money. I am up shit creek. And really, I could endure one more night in the car. It wasn’t that bad. Now that I know not all the bumps in the night are killers, I’ll sleep much better. Maybe I’ll try the front seat, though, and recline. I doubt the hump in the middle will be any more comfortable than before.

  Here’s the thing. I tried. I really, really tried.

  “I’m sorry, Ainsley, but we’re full. Maybe try a hotel?”

  Lauren is lovely. Don’t get me wrong. She is. But right now, I want to push her down and charge through the door and flop down on her sorority’s couch.

  “I don’t have the money for a hotel,” I beg her. “I don’t get paid until Friday.” And she should know that’s a couple of days away. “I just need a place to stay for tonight.”

  Have some freaking mercy on my soul.

  I’m really the one to blame. I know this. If I didn’t scare off most people, I would have plenty of friends, and this would be a non-issue.

  “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I wish I could, but we aren’t allowed guests.”

  I can’t believe she was able to keep a straight face. No guests? This is a freaking college, not a nunnery. Isn’t that like a common occurrence to have someone passed out on the floor or the couch on the daily?

  I sigh, taking a step back. This is ridiculous. “It’s okay. I’ll try another friend.” I mean someone I have a class with, but it sounds better saying friend.

  Lauren smiles hesitantly. “I hope you find something.”

  The scoff claws at my throat. “Me too. Thanks. Have a great night.”

  The door closes, and the sound of the lock clicking into place is the epic conclusion to this shitty day. I grab the strap of my bag and adjust it up on my shoulder. I can’t worry about where I’m sleeping tonight. The more significant concern is how I’m going to endure this first shift with Tucker, the fuckface, and Taylor, the backstabber.

  I have a feeling Bostic and his crew need to be on standby.

  This catastrophe is just the beginning.

  Rumor has it he’s worth millions.

  “Where were you this morning? I came by, but you weren’t home.”

  “I didn’t realize you were my mother.” My voice is sharper than it should be, but I’m in a shitty mood after this morning’s meeting. There’s a reason I don’t make a habit of owing people favors. I like to be the one in control. I know what I’m getting into when I accept an offer for a favor. I don’t enjoy being on the other side.

  “I’m not, bitch. I was just coming by to see if you wanted Vance to take care of that thing for you.” His voice lowers as he realizes we’re in public and have some secrets we don’t want to share with the world.

  “Not right now.” My jaw locks up as I try really fucking hard not to hit something.

  “Okaaaayyy. You want to tell me what’s up your ass? Why are you being extra Maverick today?” He says the extra Maverick part like it’s a thing—a girly thing at that.

  I sigh and pull open the door to the steakhouse just outside of campus, Studs and Spuds. “Can I just have dinner without a fucking interrogation?” I know I’m projecting my anger on Sebastian. Honestly, it makes me feel better.

  “Damn. Let’s get your ass some food then.”

  The smell of charcoal and grease hits my stomach as soon as we walk in. But as much as I’m craving food, I desperately want a drink. I won’t order one, though.

  “Is this where what’s-her-name works?” I just stare as Sebastian scans around the restaurant. It’s not the first time we’ve been here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left what’s-her-name with a bad taste in her mouth and the check on the table when he was last here.

  “You’re going to need to be more specific,” I mutter, already eyeing Rowan crammed into a booth. “You screw so many people I can’t keep them all straight.”

  He scoffs. “I don’t sleep around that much.”

  I cock a brow. “I didn’t say sleep. I said screw.” Where I exchange unsavory favors, Sebastian fucks people over for likes. We’re a vicious pair. “Come on. Rowan’s waiting.”

  Sebastian casts me a wary glance and cringes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go over to Gigi’s and make a little money? Gigi will cook you a steak.”

  Tempting, but no. The money would be a good distraction, but I actually need to get some things done, and if I go to Gigi’s, I will gamble the night away.

  “I need the Wi-Fi here, and the steak is better than Gigi’s.”

  Sebastian shrugs. “But I can get high at Gigi’s, and you can win some money.” He arches his brows, pleading. “Besides, you know someone will write your paper for you.”

  True, but it’s not a paper and not the point. “What the fuck did you do here, anyway?” Soon, we won’t be welcome anywhere, and I rather like it here.

  Sebastian swipes a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember, dude. It’s a problem.”

  A big problem, apparently. “You better get your shit together before you get kicked out of college.” His wealthy parents would have him hidden and shipped off to whatever school they could get him into. More than likely one overseas. He’s the disappointment of the family—exactly why we’re friends. Like me, he has little faith in the kindness of the human population. “Havemeyer doesn�
�t give a fuck how internet-famous you are.”

  “Just two?” The hostess approaches, and immediately, I know Sebastian has forgotten his rep at this place. His eyes turn greedy, and he drops his shoulder like he has some kind of swag.

  “No,” I tell her all shitty, casting Sebastian a stern look and brushing past her without a backward glance. Rowan already has a drink when I slide in next to him.

  He tips his chin.

  I tip mine and then lean down and pull my laptop out of my bag.

  “Ugh.” Sebastian groans, sliding into the booth in front of us.

  “I need to do a few things,” I answer him, already pulling up the stats I need to review. “Then we can leave, and go to Gigi’s.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I want to go too. We deserve to wash this awful day down with a pile of cash.

  “Deal,” he says excitedly. “Besides, I need a few minutes. It looks like there are new faces around here. Maybe I can cap off my night at Gigi’s with one of these hotties on my lap.”

  It’s like the last few minutes never existed. He’ll either end up in jail or some jealous boyfriend’s bitch.

  “Unless you have some outstanding favors for a good time? I’m not opposed to taking one for the team.”

  My gaze travels above the edge of my laptop, eyeing the insanity that is Sebastian. “No,” I clip out, getting back to my spreadsheet. “Besides, the last time you handled that particular favor, it earned you a pregnancy scare. I can’t afford for you to knock them up. It voids the favor. They pay for a good time, not an eighteen-year commitment.”

  Sebastian grins, not offended in the slightest. “It was one time, and I haven’t used that brand of condoms since.” Rowan scoffs. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  That’s precisely what we think, and when neither of us responds, he takes it as his cue to convince us. “I swear. I switched brands. Even if family dramas are hot right now, I don’t want to go down that road just yet. I like being able to switch up my material.”

  For fuck’s sake. The baby isn’t the issue—the material is. Everything in his life is for sale. No memory is sacred. No moment is truly alone.