Free Jaded by Rhonda Sheree Page B

place.”
    “Babe,” a deep voice called from inside the bedroom. “Come back to bed.”
    “In a sec!” Kiki yelled over her shoulder. “I’m here, Syeesha, because you need me to help you pay the rent for this dump. Y’know, living with you is no picnic for me, either. But when you’re broke, your options are limited and you take what you can get and deal with the bullshit that comes with it. So deal with it.”
    Kiki slammed the door in Syeesha’s face.
     
    ***

 
    Chapter 11
     
    The café, located just two blocks from school, was surprisingly empty. Usually a gaggle of students would assemble there to study or just hang out. Just a few customers sat at the small tables in hard, butt-numbing chairs, reading magazines and sipping lattes that cost roughly the same as a monthly car note. Syeesha tried to push the smell of the sugary decadence from her mind. She found an unoccupied table and positioned herself so that her back was toward the bakery. She waited for her beloved MacBook to boot up and figured it’d be another seven months before she was done paying it off. That would lighten up her expenses, but she needed to be free of Kiki well before then.
    Syeesha reread the last few pages she’d written of her manuscript. Her stupid little romance read more like the pinings of a wistful teenager than an actual experience a grown woman would have, albeit a fictional grown woman.
    What the hell. Might as well keep going since I’ve invested this much time into it.
    She pecked away at the story, typing, cutting, pasting, and typing again for a solid hour. Afterward, she picked up her textbook on employment law. It only took fifteen minutes before her eyes began to glaze over and yawns became impossible to muffle.
    A quarrelsome child in a stroller across the café saved her from a full-on nap. If cherubs really existed, surely the crying child would have been the exact replica of one. His clear blue eyes were filled with tears as he looked around the bookstore, not in embarrassment, but for a witness to his suffering. His mother wiped the tears from his fat, cherry-red cheeks and ran her hands through his drooping golden curls. She kissed his wet lips and stuffed a piece of chocolate cake inside his mouth. The sated child had won.
    “That kid’s antics are far more exciting than chapter twenty-three, isn’t it?”
    Syeesha turned to see Christian standing beside her.
    “What’re you doing here?”
    He nodded toward a few students huddled around two tables pushed together in the corner.
    “Study group. I see why you don’t want to join us.” He leaned in a bit and whispered, “That chapter kinda sucks.”
    “You don’t have to pretend that you’re bored about our homework assignment,” Syeesha responded. “You’re downright giddy in class.”
    “Giddy?” Christian smiled. Small, even teeth, probably the product of years of braces, shimmered behind his lopsided grin. “I don’t think I’d call myself giddy.”
    She rested her elbow on the back of her chair and looked up at him.
    “No? Well, what do you call this?” She raised a hand and said, “’Oh, oh, Professor. I know. I know.’ You pant and practically salivate.”
    The deep, throaty sound of his chuckle would have caused her to swoon had he been Professor Asher. But he wasn’t. So she made a conscious effort to ignore what could have been perceived as sexiness coming from a guy whose idea of a good time was probably playing PS3 all night.
    Without invitation, he tossed his book bag to the floor, pulled out the chair across from her, and took a seat. He hooked his coat on the backrest, making himself comfortable.
    “Passion,” he said, “can’t always be bridled like a truckled horse. I don’t expect you to understand how one can be so passionate.”
    “Why not?” She feigned taking offense. “I know about passion, thank you very much. I get up every morning and I write. Every day. Without fail.”
    “What do you