Chapter 6

ARLETTE’S POV

I spent the entire night tossing on the bed and when morning came, I had to drag myself out of the bed to the shower, I frown at myself for letting a man get under my skin. 

The cold water on my flesh helps soothe my spiking nerves. I need to sleep but I have bills to pay, my tuition will not pay itself if I don’t do something about it. Also, I need to keep directing every penny I have into saving mom and Tony from dad’s clutches.

It doesn’t take long to slip into my pair of jean shorts and a pink tank top. I wear my pair of unicorn print socks and my trainers. I look like a ray of sunshine, I know, but it doesn’t stop how I truly feel inside. 

Empty and craving some attention which I can’t have right now. 

When I leave the house, it is barely 5:30 a.m. and I make my way to the bus to my first job of the day. 

I work two jobs, in the morning, I open the bakery, I work for Sarian Jones, a forty-three-year-old lady who has a coffee shop in town and serves the most delicious looking desserts. I assist in baking and serving as well, which makes me always busy. 

“Good grief, Pumpkin, you look like shit!” Hayden Jones hisses out as he spots me enter Avenue Cafe, as it is called. 

Hayden is Sarian’s son; he helps by picking up extra shifts and running the place too. 

I yawn while rolling my eyes at him, and he smiles, closing the distance between us before wrapping me in his arms and placing a soft kiss on my hair. 

I smuggle further into his arms, enjoying his warmth. “Stop! I’m going to fall in love,” I tease and he steps back, grimacing. 

“Ewww!” He pretends to gag, and I burst out laughing. 

I love him and his mother just as much as I love this job. My shift ends at two p.m. and by the time rush hour comes in, people start filing into the cafe. I serve until I feel Hayden’s huge hands circle around my waist, pulling me backward. 

“Hey, Pumpkin, time to clock out now,” he says gently, placing tender kisses on my cheeks and I laugh at how flattering it was to my skin. 

“Thank you. I have an afternoon class,” I tell him as I remove my apron, clocking out for the day. 

By the time I board the bus to school, I am twenty-minutes late and Professor Quinn is already in class. Panting, I walk into the class and eyes are on me until I make it to my seat. 

Humiliation paints my cheeks rosy, but I notice how Professor Quinn doesn’t break his focus on his lesson, and I manage to barely pay attention. 

“Next week we are having a test, bring your laptops fully charged and updated. I will grade you on what we have studied so far in this course.” Professor Quinn announces mid-lecture. 

“Yes Professor,” Students chorus. 

This was his last lecture on the French Revolution, and I felt like I didn’t understand much.

 ‘Fuck! I need help if not I am going to have a bad grade,’ I note to myself mentally. 

The class runs out and when Prof calls the end of the class, he says, “Linger for a minute would you, Miss Winthrop?”

I nod feeling my cheeks start to burn. 

The class empties quickly, and I pack my stuff in my bag, walking down the hollow stairs to the front of the class where my professor is waiting for me. 

“You are in trouble, Butterfly” he says and my gulp at the sound of his hoarse voice sinking through me. 

“I know. I am sorry, this wouldn’t happen again,” I say finding it hard to believe my own self. 

I feel Professor Quinn's brown eyes peruse my body, but I don’t look at him for fear that he might see how exhausted I am dealing with two jobs and school. 

“Where is the assignment you were supposed to submit today?” He asks and I gasp. 

How could I have forgotten that? 

“Shit! I forgot about it completely,” I cried out and when I looked up, my history professor had a disappointing look plastered across his face. 

“Next class, you are to write ten pages of why it isn’t good to be late, and what you have learned from it. But before that, you actually need to learn,” he says fiercely covering the distance between us. 

I feel my breath hitched in my lungs as I don’t know what to expect. 

“Give me your number, I’ll come pick you up tonight,” he commands.

“Tonight? Uhm...” I trail as I remember I must work if I want to afford to come to this school. 

“What?” He asks impatiently.

“I wouldn’t be free tonight because I have something to do,” I mutter, leaving out the details. 

I see an interesting spike in his eyes as he pinches my chin, forcing me to stare into his eyes. 

“Do you have to be in another man’s bed?” He asks and just the thought of saying it out loud makes him twist his face in anger. 

“No! No! I must pick up a shift and if I don’t leave now, I’m not going to make it on time,” I plead. 

Professor Quinn doesn’t let go, rather, he pushes closer to me, curiosity build up as he asks, “Where?” 

I contemplate lying, but I give in shortly. 

“Eyepatch.” I say not giving any further details. 

“We are having this conversation whether you like it or not, Butterfly. You are dismissed for now,” he says, and I release a sigh before walking out of the classroom. 

I still feel my heart thumping against my ribcage as I make it to the double doors and fill my lungs with fresh cold air. 

“This man makes me tingle,” I mutter to myself as I hurriedly walk towards the bus stop. Good thing, I must wear a uniform at the club, so, I’ll freshen up quickly before my shift.