On The Floor (Second Story)
Read On The Floor (Second Story) Online
Authors: Jennifer LaCross
| On The Floor (Second Story) |
| LaCross, Jennifer |
| (2014) |
Copyright © 2014 Jennifer LaCross.
All rights reserved worldwide.
Cover photo rights purchased from iStockPhoto.com
Cover designed by Bradley C. La Cross
No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excepts in one of their reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is completely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Three years earlier
My heart is empty.
My life is over.
My soul is broken.
Without my mother.
Everything in my world is falling apart. My dad is lost in grief. Chad is deploying. Monica is alone. Or she will be if I don't do something about it. Giving up my lifelong dream seems like a lot, but it's not. Not when it comes to my family. They mean everything to me. Especially now that there is one less of us.
There is also the fact that I'm completely numb.
When everyone around you has fallen apart, sometimes it's up to you to keep it together. Even if that means losing yourself in the process.
Maybe one day I'll find myself again.
But until then... I'll just go to the beach.
One.
Two.
Three.
Chapter 1
Alone on
another
field trip.
In charge of a rowdy group of kids in front of museum. Well, I guess they’re not really kids. They’re college freshmen. Though sometimes with the way they act, you’d think they were in junior high school.
But that’s the path I chose when I decided to go to school at the San Diego College of Arts and Music, or CAM. I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment, so I became a resident advisor (RA). It’s a lot of work, but I like it. Handling all of the little arguments in our floor meetings. Planning educational things for the floor to do together. Solving roommate squabbles. I even enjoy the late night solve-my-problem wake-ups, strange as it may sound.
And I think I would
love
being an RA if I had a functional academic mentor (AM) to work with. But no. I don’t. I have Ty Rhoades.
When my boss, Judy, first told me about the person I would be working with, and living across the hall from, I was excited. She said he was a music major and played guitar. I’m a musical education major, but I take a lot of the same classes and I thought we would get along well.
Then I met him. I saw him walking down the hall and at first I thought he was quite good looking. Ty is tall, slightly muscular, and has sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. I smiled at him, but when he got closer I noticed some other things about his appearance. His shirt was stained, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were red with dilated pupils. And my first thought was,
how did this guy get hired to mentor a bunch of college freshmen
?
But I tried not to judge. I mean, maybe he’s a great guy. Maybe he’s smart. Maybe he’s really excited to mold young minds. Wrong. The first conversation was filled with stories about this time he was so high, or that time he was so drunk. No mention of working together at all. He also told me about “this one chick” he hooked up with. Which he later confessed was the
only
chick he has
ever
hooked up with. Then he asked me if I would be his second lover.
After he asked me that, he threw up on my shoes. Ew.
When I left our meeting that night, I still wasn’t sure why Ty had been selected to be an AM. Judy must have seen
something
in him. Maybe he was just having a bad day.
And I bet he didn’t puke on
Judy’s
shoes…
Now it’s an entire semester later, and he is still the same flaky burnout who I met the first night he moved in.
And I’m over it.
I’m reporting him to Judy.
He has already had a warning when Judy noticed that he wasn’t at our open mic night last semester. I’ve never reported him before, even though he has missed or was
seriously
late to every event we have ever had for the floor.
But I’m done.
***
Ty finally shows up to the field trip after we’ve already taken our museum tour. Hours late. And high.
I pull him off to the side while we wait for the bus to take us back to campus, hoping he has some sort of valid excuse as to why he missed
another
field trip.
“I know, I know, I know,” he says when we round the corner of the building. “I fucked up. I had a band meeting that turned into a party. And there was this one chick who was all over me! I mean, how could I leave her hanging?” he asks with that stupid smile on his face, raising his eyebrows.
“Wow. Okay…” I respond. Every time Ty opens his mouth he says something stupid. If I had to guess, the next thing that he’ll say will be even worse.
“So, you know I had to stay, right? She was hot! And the fuckin’ rack on her… Bigger than even yours!” he says, holding his hands up to my chest and pretending to squeeze.
And I’m right. Even worse.
“Ew Ty!” I say, slapping his hands away.
“And like did you even really need me to be here, Rach? It looks like you have it handled. There was really no reason for me to be here anyways.”
And that last comment, out of
everything
he has said, makes me lose it.
Normally I have an even temper. Normally I am forgiving. Normally I am very patient. I have always been the peacekeeper among my friends and family. Letting Ty keep his job this long without reporting him
has
to be a testament to the amount of chances I will give a person.
But I’ve had enough. Enough of his vulgarities. Enough of his flippant attitude. Enough of his carelessness.
Enough of him. Period.
“No! Don’t call me Rach! We’re not friends! We’re not anything! Just stop, Ty! I just…” and then I growl. I am angry. Furious. There is no other way to explain it. And I can’t believe I just
growled
!
“Whoa,
Rachel
…” he says, stepping back.
“That’s it Ty. I’m reporting you to Judy. And I hope she fires you. The fact that you think that you didn’t need to be here because I
have it handled.
They’re not children, Ty! I don’t need help babysitting! It’s your
job
to be here! You were hired to help them, and all you have helped them with was telling them which bars don’t card!”
“That’s pretty useful information…”
“Shut up, Ty! These freshmen deserve better than you. And I’m done standing by while you ignore your responsibilities,” I finish, turning to walk away and back to the group.
Before I can get far, he grabs my arm. I stop, but don’t turn around. “Let go of me, Ty.”
“I just wanted to say that you’re right. About everything you just said. You want them to have the best experience, and I am pretty shitty at my job. You’re going to make a pretty good teacher one day, you know. You care.”
Confused by what he just said, I turn my head and look at him. I start to thank him, but then he says, “But you’re still a frigid bitch. The best teachers usually are.” Then he lets go of my arm and walks away, in the opposite direction of the group.
Seriously?
The first thing I’m doing when I get back to the dorms: Calling Judy.
Goodbye, Ty.
***
“And then he called me a ‘frigid bitch!’ Can you believe that?”
“What a total dick! You are the sweetest person I know! And you gave him so many chances to get it together. Sure, you can be a little quiet and shy. But ‘frigid bitch?’ No way! We both know he is still just bitter because you turned down his limp dick. Asshole.”
Ladies and gentleman: My best friend, Jenna Fitzgerald.
If I am quiet and shy, she is my exact opposite. Loud and opinionated. She always has something to say. In most cases it is exactly what I want to hear. Sometimes it’s not, but in
those
cases it’s something I
need
to hear. After all, isn’t that what a true best friend is for? To see you for who you really are, even if you aren’t ready or willing to see for yourself.
This is one of those times where we are on the exact same page. She says everything I wish
I
could say. Hell, she has told Ty stuff like this to his face.
“Rachel, I am really sorry you got stuck with such a tool. But I
am
glad that you finally stood up for yourself with him. He has been taking advantage of your kindness and patience for too long.”
She flips her head upside down and shakes her short red hair. Standing back up she looks at me in the mirror on the back of her door and smiles. I have always loved Jenna’s hair. She’s constantly changing it. I have had the same long, dark drown, layered hair since junior high.
Jenna Fitzgerald and I met in community college and both transferred to CAM last semester. She’s working on a degree in dance and she plans on teaching as well. We had a lot of the same classes and I was drawn to her confidence and ability to say what was on her mind. I was always quiet and reserved, wanting but not willing to speak my mind. She has helped me learn that it is okay to say what I am feeling and stand up for myself. I still have a long way to go until I am at her level, but I am not sure I ever want to be
that
forward.
Not only are we opposite in personality, but we look very different as well. Jenna is almost six feet tall and though she is very thin she still has a figure, even with her narrow hips and small chest. Plus, the girl has legs that go on forever. Guys are always asking her if she is a model. Her response is always: “Fuck off.” She has bright blue eyes and, at the moment, she has short newly red hair. She is constantly changing the color whenever she gets a new boyfriend. So for her, that is about every other week. She just dumped Hector last night, which explains the change from blonde to red.
I am average height and very curvy. I have long brown hair and big, green eyes. I like to think that I am pretty, but sometimes I’m not sure. I never seem to attract much male attention, but that might also be because every time I go out I am with Jenna. And being the force that she is, it’s hard to get any attention when you are near her. Especially given the fact that (as I have already pointed out) I am a bit on the shy side.
