“Jake,” Claire says, staring up at him.
“Hey Jake,” I wave.
She can’t keep her eyes off him. They’re practically twinkling because of his presence. Jax who?
He nods dismissively at her, then he turns to me. “Do you want a drink?”
I glance at Claire, and she’s biting her lip. Shrugging, I say, “Sure. Claire, are you coming?”
She nods silently. We follow him to the kitchen island, where bottles of brown and white liquor litter the marble countertop.
Jake reaches up for a plastic party cup. Well, he doesn’t have to reach that high. He has to be at least 6’3.
“Um, are there any beer bottles… or wine coolers?” I ask.
He sets the cup back down. “Oh, yeah sure.” He opens the cooler and pulls us out two cold bottles. I offer one to Claire, but she declines.
“Shouldn’t you be 100% sober?” she cro
“Ooooooow!”“Relax,” Cas sighs.“Are you okay?” LeAnn asks.As Claire sinks down to the floor, Cas pulls me aside. “Who the hell is she?”“Oh, that’s Claire. I met her at Marie’s Soups.”“Who’s Marie?” she asks cluelessly.
After about half an hour, we have become true sleuths. Well, after a 20 minute period of distraction. In our defense, a lot of the earlier posts on the account were pretty funny… and distracting.“Okay, okay. Time to focus,” I say.“But this one—”“No,” I put my palm up.LeAnn places the phone back on the countertop, focusing on me.
Despite our failure yesterday, I still have to show up bright and early for my internship. I feel like I’ve fallen far behind this summer. I was supposed to be looking for internships. I was supposed to apply, to show my work ethic, and to score myself this opportunity. As a scholar, I take pride in my work—this summer has plummeted that side of me. The drama, the gossip, the guys… all the guys.Finally, I can get back into a routine that reflects the real me: Genevieve, the scholar; Genevieve, the try-hard; Genevieve, the ass-kisser. Any other person referred to as these monikers would be offended. I embrace it. I always have. I usually enjoy working hard, but for some reason it doesn’t have the same effect today.I straighten out my blazer and pencil skirt in my full length mirror. Typical office outfit. “Hello, my name is Genevieve, and I would be an extraordinary applicant for any institution becaus
The cafeteria in this place has all the selections that one could want: salads, sandwiches, soups, and pastas. This should have been the selling point of the place. From the corner of my eye, I spot Staple’s assistant in a tight mini skirt and busty blouse, grabbing a vegetarian sandwich and a meatball sub. Who let her cut the line?I whisper to the guy in front of me. “Can we just jump to any section, or…?”“No, but you know Steph,” he replies.My face crumples into confusion.
If my life had a playlist, it would be a sad one. Alternative music would play, giving a dark and smoky vibe. A few low tempo rap songs, some Adele for a little variation. I decided to make this playlist, with the excuse that it would inspire me to write the most profound and insightful essays for college.What is your favorite book, and how has it impacted your life?I can’t say Fifty Shades of Grey, can I? NEXTWhat is your favorite song?I just close the laptop—for the third time today, I might add. I’m contemplating deleting my social media apps, as well. I’ve developed a severe case
He lives a few streets over from me. Being in the small town we’re in, of course we’ve known each other forever.I only had to enter the address in to find the route with less traffic.When I get there, only his car is in the driveway, parked haphazardly, and the door is ajar.Now, I know that the rational decision would be to run for the hills… or for help, but I decided to enter… cautiously, of course.I hear a rumbling noise coming from upstairs, along with heavy breathing and… growling?Please don’t be a burglar, please don’t be a burglar, please don’t be a burglar.Luckily, I know Aaron’s mom, and she always keeps a bat under the kitchen sink. I grab it and head upstairs to become a vigilante. With each steady step, I get more jittery and regret it.The noises get louder and louder until…“What the fuck?!” the bitch scream
I feel like I’m in an action movie. You know, one of those where there’s some social security threat, and the CIA enlists some rogue agents—whom they suddenly trust to competently do their jobs—to “save the world.”I’m rapidly clicking my computer keys, searching for any digital trail from secrets109428@hotmail.com. Subtle.“Find secrets109428@hotmail.com on White Pages Today!” a random link says. No, thanks.
Drake’s POV“What is it now?” I snap.“Problem at the oil rig,” the tattooed beast mumbles.“What fucking oil rig? We have hundreds of—”He dangles a bag of white powder before I can finish my sentence.Oh. Oil rig.I sigh, rubbing my temples. “What kind of problem?”“Some managers”—law enforcement— “stumbled on”—busted—“some weird activity”—our illegal drug business— “among the