[3] Poor People Got To Stick Together

Black short wavy hair gently hangs over his strong chiseled face. His onyx eyes were hidden behind amazingly long lashes. He even had a nice 5 o'clock shadow on his face. His olive skin almost made him shine under the strobing lights of the bar.

Now that I’m looking at him closely, despite being poor, he’s strangely attractive.

"Bring me tap water instead."

"But sir-"

"Tap water. This is ridiculous."

I feel the hand squeeze my ass again.

"I'm kinda jealous, you're here on top of me but you're looking somewhere else."

Right, focus on money, Violet! Focus on the man under you!

"Sorry," I mumbled, "It's just your friend-"

He cuts me off, "Markus? Ignore that stingy bastard."

Somehow, I felt myself getting annoyed with that. It wasn't someone's fault that they were stingy. Maybe it was just that they couldn't really afford it in the first place.

I was stingy too. Sometimes. Not really. Still.

All of my expenses were calculated to a tee, down to the last cent. I knew that I enjoyed shopping to relieve stress, and I loved spending. That's why I have a ton of jobs. I needed something to continue my lifestyle. And that's only because I was privileged enough to have the time to have those jobs.

His friend, Markus, probably didn't have the time to get a job that paid well.

Suddenly, I was annoyed, and I started sliding off him.

"I changed my mind," I glared. "I'm going to spend time with the stingy bastard instead."

The man rolls his eyes, "Whatever, bitch. Try and see if you'll get money off him."

I didn't bother replying, instead, I slowly made my way over to Markus. He wasn't even looking at me. He was that uncomfortable. He was too busy glaring at the alcohol that was set on the table.

Poor thing, he probably couldn't afford it.

There were days when I would pass by store booths and looks at shoes behind a transparent glass. I didn't have enough money to buy them. It doesn't bother me as much as when it happens to me.

It bothers me immensely though when I have my siblings with me and they pass by toy stores or clothes stores and they look longingly at a piece of item there. It pains me that most of the time, I don't have enough money to buy them everything they wanted. 

Though oftentimes, the anger is more than the pain. It makes me angry that my siblings have this kind of life.

"Hey there," I say, sitting beside him. Unlike his friend, he seemed like the kind of person who wasn't into skin to skin contact. I was cool with that. "You know you can't have that much fun with just water."

He seemed startled that I was now next to him.

He meets my eyes, surprising me.

Usually, guys would stare at my cleavage first.

Not him. He was looking at my eyes. And I find myself squirming under his stare. I was wrong. Even if he was poor, he looked cute. Dare I say, handsome even?

"I...don't have cash with me."

Even from the loud blaring of the music at the club, I could hear the snickers that came from his friends.

He clicked his tongue and continued glaring down on his lap. Something sparked inside of me too, something that seemed like anger. They were his friends, and they were laughing at him for being poor. I had friends like that too, back then when I tried my hardest to be accepted. Friends who only liked you for the things you could offer.

I was conventionally attractive, which meant instant popularity at school. Yet when they found out the status of my money, or lack thereof, they suddenly stopped being friends with me.

Or it might also have something to do with them losing valuables around me.

Hey! It wasn't my fault they left their valuables at places where I could easily swipe them.

I cup my hands around my mouth and call out to one of the waitresses.

"Babe, could you bring one glass of Mai Tai for my friend, here? Put it on my tab."

Markus turns his head to me quickly, a surprised look on his face.

And he was grinning.

I almost had the urge to cover my eyes with how blinding his teeth were. They were a perfect set of white teeth. For someone poor, he definitely cares about his dental hygiene.

This really just proves my previous statement that he was one handsome mofo. 

Yup, I'm already calling it, we would be great friends. Conventionally attractive people who are also poor, like us, need to stick together.

"Really?" His smile widened, showing me two cute dimples. "For free?"

"Yeah, just enjoy yourself. And if you need another glass, tell me."

$$$*$$$*$$$

"T-t-t-taxeees!" Markus slurred. One of his arms was draped across my shoulders, pulling me into him. The other was holding a bottle which he was currently waving in the air. "Accountaaant's terri- terribe- terribleee!"

Chuckling, I try getting his arm off me, which was a challenge.

Over the past few minutes, I realized that I had made the wrong assumption. It seems that Markus was fond of skin to skin contact. Just not the kind that I was used to. The moment he got drunk, he started being touchy.

Not the perverted kind, it just seemed like he was losing his battle with gravity and needed a firm body that would prop him up.

"Propertytaxeschargedonmycard," Markus grumbled, his words tumbling from his mouth in a rush of barely distinguishable syllables. He brings the bottle to his mouth again and chugs. "Cannotdeducttaxableincomemybehind!"

"It seems you have a problem with taxes."

He turned his head towards me, and I found myself freezing on the spot. He leans his forehead on mine and I feel the warmth of his breath. He narrows his eyes, while I try my best to ignore the rush of blood that came running to my cheeks.

"C-c-could youuu do shumtin 'boutit?"