006

DANCE OF AVOIDANCE

~CHELSEA~

{Playlist Suggestions: “Control” by Halsey}

I changed my cleaning schedule three times in two weeks.

First, I switched to start at midnight instead of eleven. Then I rearranged my route to clean the old gym last instead of first. Finally, I asked Marcus, the night security guard, to let me know if any students were in the building after hours.

None of it worked.

Kade Kingston appeared everywhere.

In the library at two in the morning, supposedly studying but watching me empty trash cans. In the main hallway when I thought everyone had gone home. Even in the staff break room once, claiming he was looking for a vending machine that didn't exist.

"You're avoiding me," he said the fourth time our paths crossed, this time in the science wing.

I kept mopping, not looking up. "I'm working."

"Different schedule than before."

"Is that a problem?" I finally met his eyes. "Are you going to report me for doing my job at a different time?"

He leaned against the wall, studying me. "Why won't you use the money?"

My hands tightened on the mop handle. The envelope still sat unopened on my dresser at home. I had counted it three times, each bill crisp and perfect. $583.78. Exactly what I needed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

"Chelsea." His voice was softer now. "Your brother. The hospital. I know you need it."

I stopped mopping and faced him fully. "How do you know about Chase?"

Something flashed across his face. "It's a small town. Word gets around."

"No." I stepped closer. "How do you know about Chase?"

For the first time since I had met him, Kade Kingston looked uncomfortable. "Does it matter? The money's there if you need it."

"It matters to me." My voice was low, dangerous. "Did you have me investigated?"

His silence was answer enough.

"You had me investigated," I repeated, disbelief turning to anger. "You entitled, arrogant..."

"I was worried about you," he interrupted.

"Worried?" I laughed harshly. "You don't even know me."

"I know you work three jobs. I know your brother has a chronic condition that requires expensive treatment. I know your mother..."

"Stop." The word came out like a slap. "Just stop."

I grabbed my mop bucket and cart, pushing past him toward the exit.

"The money isn't charity," he called after me. "It's payment for your silence. Like I said."

I whirled around. "My silence about what? You training after hours? Do you really think I care enough about your little rule-breaking to blackmail you?"

"Then take it for whatever reason you want." He stepped closer. "You need it. I have it. That's enough."

"No, it's not enough." I was fighting to keep my voice down. "You can't just throw money at people and expect them to be grateful. That's not how it works."

"Then how does it work?" There was frustration in his voice now. "Tell me. How do I help?"

"You don't." The words came out harsher than I planned. "You don't help. You leave me alone."

I left him standing in the hallway and finished my shift in record time. But even after I got home, I couldn't shake the image of his face when I had walked away.

He had looked genuinely confused. Like he couldn't understand why his money couldn't fix everything.

*****

"You look like death," Zoe said, sliding a cup of coffee across the break room table.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and I was between shifts again. Crawford in the morning, Rusty's Diner in an hour, then back to Crawford at midnight. My body was running on caffeine and stubborn determination.

"Thanks for the pep talk," I muttered, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.

Zoe Martinez had been my best friend since we started working at Venom together three years ago. She was everything I wasn't...loud, colorful, unafraid to speak her mind.

Today her hair was purple with silver streaks, and she wore enough eyeliner to make a raccoon jealous.

"Seriously, Chel. When's the last time you slept? Like, really slept?"

I tried to remember. "Sunday?"

"It's Wednesday."

"Sunday night," I clarified. "For like four hours."

Zoe groaned. "This is insane. You're going to collapse."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're running yourself into the ground." She leaned forward. "How's Chase?"

"Better. He comes home tomorrow."

"That's good news."

"Yeah." I took a sip of coffee. It tasted like burnt water, but the caffeine was what mattered. "The hospital worked out a payment plan. I can manage it if I keep up with the extra shifts."

"What about your mom? Is she helping?"

I laughed bitterly. "She's helping by staying out of the way."

Zoe's expression darkened. "Is Samuel still around?"

"Yeah." I didn't mention the bruises on my arms from where he had grabbed me, or the way he watched me when my mother wasn't looking. "But I'm avoiding home as much as possible anyway."

"Chel..." Zoe reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "You know you and Chase could stay with me and my family, right? My mom's already offered like a dozen times."

The Martínez family had been kinder to me than my own blood relatives. When Zoe found out about my situation, she had immediately involved her parents, who had insisted on at least feeding me whenever I came by their house.

"I can't keep imposing..."

"It's not imposing if we're offering." Zoe's voice was firm. "And it's definitely better than staying somewhere with that creep."

"I know. And I'm grateful, I really am. But Chase needs consistency right now. Moving around isn't good for his health."

It was a weak excuse, and we both knew it. The truth was, I was afraid. Afraid of being a burden. Afraid of seeing disappointment in Mrs. Martínez's eyes when she realized how damaged I really was.

"Fine," Zoe said. "But if things get worse..."

"They won't." I stood up, checking the time. "I need to get to Rusty's."

"I'll drive you," Zoe offered.

"It's only three blocks."

"It's ninety degrees and you look like you might pass out." She stood too. "Come on. Let me take care of you a little bit."

Rusty's Diner had been a stopper in town for as long as anyone could remember.

The booths were cracked vinyl held together with duct tape, the floor tiles were chipped and stained, and the coffee pot had been broken for so long that nobody even bothered to complain anymore.

But the tips were decent, the hours were flexible, and Rusty himself was a good boss who didn't ask too many questions about why a twenty-year-old girl worked so many different jobs.

"Lynch!" Rusty called from behind the grill as I tied my apron around my waist. "You're on section three today. Maria called in sick."

Section three was the largest section, which meant more tables and hopefully more tips. I grabbed my order pad and pen, forcing a smile onto my face.

The afternoon shift was always challenging. The lunch rush had passed, but there were still enough customers to keep me moving.

I served coffee to truck drivers, sandwiches to business people on their break, and pie to anyone who looked like they needed a little sweetness in their day.

My feet ached. My back throbbed. But I smiled and called everyone "hon" and calculated tips in my head.

Table four: $32.50 check, $6 tip. Seventeen percent. Not bad.

Table seven: $18.75 check, $2 tip. Barely eleven percent.

Table two: $45.60 check, $10 tip. Twenty-two percent. Good.

Running total for the day: $47.50. Add it to my base pay, and I'd made about $95 for the shift. Not enough to cover all my expenses, but every dollar counted.

"Chelsea," Rusty called from the kitchen. "You've got a customer asking for you specifically."

I frowned. "Which table?"

"Six. Says he knows you from school."

My stomach dropped. Table six was in the corner, partially hidden by a pillar. From where I stood, I could only see a glimpse of dark hair and expensive clothes.

Please don't be him, I thought desperately. Please don't be Kade Kingston.

But when I rounded the pillar, my worst fears were confirmed. Kade sat in the booth, looking completely out of place in his perfectly pressed khakis and polo shirt.

And he wasn't alone.

The girl across from him was stunning in the way only rich girls could be. Blonde hair that had never seen a drugstore box of dye, perfect makeup that probably cost more than I made in a week, and a sundress that screamed designer.

She was exactly the type of girl who belonged with Kade Kingston. The type who would never work a day in her life, who would never have to choose between food and medicine, who would never understand what it meant to be desperate.

"Chelsea," Kade said, his voice carefully neutral. "This is unexpected."

The blonde girl looked between us, her perfect eyebrows raised in curiosity. "You know our waitress?"

"We go to the same school," Kade said. "Chelsea, this is Valerie. Valerie, Chelsea."

Valerie's smile was sharp as a knife. "How nice. I didn't know Crawford Elite had a work-study program."

The insult was delivered with such sweet poison that it took me a moment to process it. I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation.

"She doesn't go to Crawford," Kade said quietly. "She works there."

"Oh." Valerie's face shifted to one of puffy sympathy. "How...industrious of you."

I wanted to disappear. To sink through the floor and never face either of them again. Instead, I forced my customer service smile and pulled out my order pad.

"What can I get you both to drink?"

"I'll have a sparkling water with lemon," Valerie said, not looking at me.

"We have tap water and lemon," I replied.

"Tap water?" Valerie wrinkled her nose. "Is that safe?"

"It's the same water everyone else drinks," I said, my patience wearing thin.

"I'll have coffee," Kade said quickly. "Black."

"Of course you will," Valerie laughed. "So brooding and mysterious." She reached across the table and trailed her fingers down his arm. "Remember when you used to get those fancy lattes? Before you became all intense about your training?"

Kade pulled his arm away, his jaw tight. "Things change."

"They certainly do." Valerie's eyes found mine again. "Some more than others."

I wrote down their drink orders with hands that shook slightly. "I'll be right back."

At the drink station, I tried to steady myself. It shouldn't matter what Valerie thought of me. She didn't know me. She didn't know my life or my struggles.

But seeing her with Kade, seeing how perfectly they fit together in their expensive clothes and careless privilege, made something ache in my chest.

It was a reminder of the gap between us. A gap that couldn't be bridged by late-night conversations or mysterious envelopes full of money.

"You okay, hon?" Rusty appeared beside me, concern creasing his weathered face.

"Fine," I lied. "Just tired."

"Those kids giving you trouble?"

I looked back at table six, where Valerie was leaning close to Kade, whispering something that made him frown.

"No," I said. "Just customers."

But as I carried their drinks back to the table, I could feel Kade's eyes on me. Watching. Studying. Like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

The hostess had seated them in my section. As I approached with water glasses, Valerie draped herself over Kade's arm, but his eyes never left my face.

"Well," he said with a slow smile that didn't reach his eyes, "this is convenient."