𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄

|𝟖| 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲

Paisley shoves open the door to my car, zipping up the driveway as her friends call after her in hope that she'll calm down. She makes her way up the steps and unlocks the front door.

"MOM!" I hear her shout when her friends and I make it indoors. "You'll never guess who I saw at work!"

Her mom chuckles, "Who, baby? The cookie monster?"

"Duh," Paisley says sarcastically. "No, but seriously, guess who?"

"Who?"

"Evan." There's excitement behind her words, I can hear it. And I hate to admit it, but it kills me that I don't know why she's so thrilled about this Ethan guy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure this... Eric is great. But if that guy makes her that cheerful, then there must be something about him that's "special" in Paisley's eyes. And for some reason, I don't like that. In my head, she's not allowed to be that happy over some random guy. Especially one I don't know.

Figuring I've heard enough of their conversation, I fling my keys into the key dish on the small console table by the door and stride up the stairs in a rush to get to my "safe-haven" undetected and unbothered.

If I'm being honest, I'm not a people person and the older I get, the more I try to be. I loathe my employment at Monty's as a result of my newfound antisocial-ness.

While, yes, it's a job where there are bound to be heaps of people, and me offering to help out knowing this was ridiculous; I still feel dreadful whenever I think about quitting.

However, I just have to make it through the remainder of the week and then I could take a break from Monty's during Winter break. That would imply I'd have only a two- almost three -week break, but I'm hoping that'll be sufficient for my greedy ass.

Unzipping my backpack, I pull out my laptop and a list my teacher gave me. Allegedly, I haven't turned in any homework since last week, so after class the other day, he had me come back during lunch to give me a list of assignments I had to complete.

Fortunately for me, I only missed like, what... four assignments? Three of which being worksheets I could easily complete with the assistance of a classmate. By that I mean ask somebody to give me the answers to the worksheets so I don't have to waste my energy and oh so valuable time on meaningless History shit. But I suppose that much is apparent. Who actually does their homework?

Obviously, not me.

|𝔖|

After I complete my homework and get off of FaceTime with my teammate, Tyler, I opt that it's time I change out of my nasty clothes and put these obnoxious ass textbooks back in their musty home. By musty home, I mean my backpack I've had since eighth grade.

I stand from my desk, stretching each of my long limbs after shoving my books in my bag and neatly putting my papers away in a folder.

I shut my door, not bothering to lock it. I imagine that by now, the members of this household know not to intrude on Kamden-time.