Never Let Go by Scarlett Edwards Page A

For a brief moment, his pants ride down far enough for me to glimpse the top of some tattoo that starts on the top of his left quad.
    Spencer catches me looking. “Like what you see?”
    I bristle and turn away. I feel my cheeks go warm again. And what’s up with the sudden heat flooding between my legs?
    “No,” I say firmly. “You need to put a shirt on.”
    He laughs. “Most girls beg me to take mine off.”
    “Yeah, well I’m not most girls ,” I snap. What pisses me off the most, right now, is how flustered he makes me feel. “You can go whenever you want. I’ll tell Katy you were here.”
    “And what if I’m not here for her?” he asks. His voice turns low. That masculine rumble does all types of strange, unexpected things to my insides.
    “You’re not here for me, that’s for sure,” I tell him. “And if you are, you’ve completely misconstrued my interest. There isn’t any. Trust me. You can go. I’ll pay you for the groceries.”
    Spencer starts laughing. I hate how impervious he is to my remarks. It’s infuriating . “I’m not here because I’m waiting for you to pay me,” he says, eyes flashing. “ Trust me .”
    I glare at him. I’m just about to open my mouth to tell him to leave again when Katy walks into the room.
    “Ugh,” she groans. “My head. It feels like I have a thousand different jackhammers going off in there all at once.” She notices us. “What are you two bickering about so loudly in here?”
    “We’re not…” bickering , I was going to say. Then I realize that she’s right.
    “Here,” Spencer says, pouring her a glass of water. “Drink this.” He bends over to take something out of the shopping bag. “And take these Advil's.”
    “You’re not supposed to mix Advil with alcohol!” I protest, remembering something our Planning teacher taught us in high school.
    Spencer looks at me as if I’m a child. “That’s Tylenol ,” he corrects. “Katy was right about you, huh? You’re just totally innocent.”
    “I said no such thing,” Katy opposes, offering Spencer a dirty look. He winks at her and smiles at me.
    Katy drinks from the glass and downs the pills. Spencer watches her intently. Once he’s satisfied, he turns to me. “See? I’m not so bad.”
    “That remains to be seen.” I cross my arms. However, I know he’s partially right. So far, he’s done nothing wrong in taking care of Katy. Maybe I could stand to revise my opinion of him.
    Slightly.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Monday morning hits. I decide it’s the best time to start looking for a job.
    I’m glad Spencer didn’t call me out on my bluff about paying for groceries on the weekend. I have no money.
    Still, I’m determined to pay him as soon as I make some. I will not be in his debt.
    The first classes of the semester also start on Monday. The school has something called “shopping week,” where students are allowed to drift in and out of whatever class they want for the first five school days. It’s a way for us to familiarize ourselves with the professors before finalizing our schedules for the term.
    Lucky for me, Katy shared a little secret. Her great insight is that none of the professors takes shopping week seriously. They know half the faces they see this week will be different after students submit their final schedules. They don’t hand out any assignments or give any important lectures.
    So, in truth, classes don’t really start until next week. That gives me just the time I need to find some employment.
    I spent all of yesterday scouring the school’s website for opportunities on campus. Three stand out for me.
    The first is a clerical position in the library. It’s not very exciting, but I could probably swing it so I end up getting paid to study. I print off the application.
    The second is a bar back at the university-sanctioned pub. The hours aren’t flexible. But, I figure I can double the hourly wage in tips—especially since most of the patrons are