She sighed. “Really, I just need to make enough money for senior year. Not many people hire in June. Besides Jiggles ,” she murmured the last word to herself.
Sure, I’d noticed this chick from the moment I stepped foot into Office Jax, even though I pretended not to see her as I stared at my phone. And normally I could keep the situation in my pants under control. But the thought of this girl working a pole sent a jolt straight to my cock. I shifted uncomfortably. Dammit, I didn’t need to be hard at work, especially for Peach.
“I’m joking. Quit looking like that.”
I turned to her. “Like what?”
She cocked her eyebrow. “Like you’re imagining me on a pole. Knock it off.”
Shit, was she a mind reader now?
Her brows lifted, challenging me to say different. She was good. Too good. Hell yes, her tight little body, full lips, and silky hair was my personal brand of kryptonite, but I wasn’t about to admit that to her.
Darwin had this little thing called the theory of evolution, survival of the fittest—one that I kept ignoring by going for my usual type. If I kept showing interest in the same type of girls, it’d destroy me. Self-preservation was the only way to go at this point. “You assume you’re attractive enough to work at Jiggles.” I wanted to deck myself as this came out of my mouth.
“Prick.”
I stacked a few reams of paper on the endcap. Just play it off. You don’t owe her anything. Except an apology, dipshit. “Aren’t you observant.”
A frown pulled at her lips, an immediate sucker punch to the gut. Putting up my cold, callous front with her felt so wrong, but my sense of humor and trust in people was obliterated the second I walked in on Lex with her lips wrapped around my roommate’s dick. Nothing screamed my life’s a shitty punch line like a cheating girlfriend.
Jules shook her head and continued rearranging paper on the endcap. To her, I was just some D-bag. In the span of fifteen minutes, I’d managed to insult this chick who really didn’t deserve it.
I hadn’t always been this way—I used to be a nice guy. Maybe nice guy was a stretch. But definitely a faithful one. One that usually didn’t insult people—purposefully. I somehow doubted she’d believe it, after I had just implied she was ugly and not fit for working at a fucking strip club, the exact opposite of what I actually thought.
“I’m sorry.”
She scoffed and blinked at me through long coated lashes. “Apology not accepted.”
This day was on a direct route to hell. I raked my hand through my hair, staring at the ground. Space. I needed space to think. I mumbled another pointless apology and made my way to the back of the store. My head throbbed as I worked my fingers along my temples, pushing through the double doors.
Dad was rearranging supplies as I walked into the freight area. He shot me a cool glare over the warped edge of a box labeled erasers. “Working hard, or hardly working?”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. Sad to think we couldn’t even make it thirty seconds being civil.
He eyed me suspiciously. Apparently this was an actual question, not rhetorical.
There was no escape in this damn store—up front a smart-mouth princess who made me feel like the biggest jerk ever. In back, Dad who made me feel like a total screw-up. A lose-lose situation.
I picked up a stack of paper and backed up a few steps, moving toward the door. “Being a model employee. Just going to set these by the door on the way to my break.”
Dad folded his arms across his chest; his disappointed gaze held a hint of maybe I should leave my franchise to a distant relative in my will. Ever since I couldn’t keep my eyes open in Boring 101 aka Business 101, my grades plummeted, and I’d failed out of Baylor. Dad had wedged his way fully up my ass, never letting me forget how I’d fucked up my future. It was true, knowing what I wanted to do with my life wasn’t clear at this point, but I knew this much: dealing with type-A office supply fanatics asking me about fountain pens and embossed versus eggshell finish stationery was not how I got my kicks. My own personal purgatory.
Dad shoved a box onto a shelf and leveled me with his stare. “Lose the attitude, son.”
Goading him wouldn’t be smart, I knew, but damn if I didn’t like to piss him off a little. “Would never dream of giving you attitude, Father.” Before I could bear witness to his temper flaring, I walked to the break room.