The night's almost over, and I've barely interacted with Brooks since talking to him 2 hours ago. I'm happy to see that he's still here, though, and I'm pretty sure that's only because his family was honored tonight for their charitable donation to Meadows. The Caldwells are royalty here, there's no denying that.

Gale lets me and Veronica know that we can head out for the night, so we race to the lockers to grab our stuff. I gotta go home, soak my feet into warm water, and get into bed.

"Wanna split the Uber ride home?" Veronica asks as she pushes the door open to the outside. 

"Duh," I say as I scrummage through my messenger bag to make sure that I have everything.

"Uh, actually," she stops me with her hand, "I don't think that you'll need to."

"Huh?" I ask, looking at her. But all she does is nod at the figure standing in the shadows, so I look that way.

Brooks is facing us, but leaning against the cement wall, smirking in the sexiest way imaginable. I don't think that I'll ever get over him in a suit, I swear.

Veronica turns to me and places her hands around my arm. "Call me when you get home!"

"What, no! I'm coming with you." Not that I want to, but I know that I have to.

"No, you're not. Not when Mr. Too Gorgeous For His Own Good is waiting for you."

"I can't," I whisper.

"You can," she tells me otherwise, leaving me with a grimace.

She passes Brooks and he nods, holding his palm up to her like a wave.

I hesitantly make my way towards him. He makes me nervous, and I'm not used to feeling this way. It's the good kind of nervous, though. The kind that excites you. The kind that makes you feel like you're in a dream.

Because I do. Feel like I'm in a dream, that is.

"You're still here," I state once I get to him.

"And you still owe me a dance," he says.

"The party's over," I say with a chuckle, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he lends his hand out for me to take.

"Here?" I ask, glancing around the vacant, dark parking lot.

"Why not?" he smiles, pulling me towards him.

"We're in a parking lot," I state with another chuckle.

"I'll dance anywhere with you, Red. As long as I get to hold you, it doesn't matter where I am."

"And if somebody sees us?"

"Lucky them."

"Brooks, you can have any girl you want," I say, using that as my excuse as to why this is a bad idea.

"And you're her."

"I'm not," I claim, shaking my head, trying to be the logical one here. "Brooks, look at me," I say, gesturing to my uniform.

"I am," he whispers.

"No, really look at me. I'm not this," I say, widening my arms at the building before us. "I'm not country clubs and galas and champagne and money. I'm not. But you? You are. And you should want someone who's on your level."

"I want you," he tells me matter-of-factly.

"Brooks, you don't want me, you can't wa-"

Before I can finish my sentence, he grabs the back of my head and pulls me into a kiss. It's needy but also passionate, and I can feel his want in the way that his lips touch mine. I touch them back with the same desire. Because I want him. I want him more than anything.

***

I don't realize how late it is until I step out of the Caldwell's Suburban and light up my phone to check the time.

I finagle the key through the lock and quietly enter my house. I notice that the kitchen lights are on, so I make my way there to find mom sitting at the round table with just a cup of tea by her side.

"Mom?" I slowly speak up as to not startle her.

Her forehead is titled, resting in her palm, and her body is slumped.

"It's late, Remi," is all she says, but I know that she's not actually mad at me. She's physically and mentally exhausted and I don't blame her.

"I know, I'm sorry," I tell her, scooting the chair out and taking a seat next to her. "What time did you get home from work?"

"Around 10," she tells me, her voice drained. I don't fail to notice the bags underneath her eyes.

"Why don't you go upstairs? Go to sleep?" I suggest.

"I can't sleep."

I place my elbows down on the table and lean in towards her. "Mom, you're tired. You need to sleep."

"I have a lot on my mind," she tells me, and I reach for her hand.

"Like what?"

She shakes her head and sniffles her nose, but then smiles at me. "Nothing for you to worry about."

But I am worried, so I ask, "Is this about dad losing his job?"

She looks at me and I can tell that she's contemplating lying.

"No," she finally speaks.

"Mom, you can talk to me. I saw the late payment letter." I clear my throat, then clarify, "the second one."

She smiles again, but it's so forced, I see right through it. "Everything is fine, Remi."

"Mom, if you and dad need me to-"

"We don't need you to do anything, sweetheart," she says, reaching for my face and cupping my chin with her hand. "We're so proud of you."

I faintly smile at her because I know that she's lying.

"You know what? Maybe I will head to bed," she says, coming to a stand and pressing a kiss to my head. "Goodnight, honey."

I watch her walk out of the kitchen and feel helpless. I know that I'm doing my very best, working hard at Meadows, but why does that feel like it's not enough?

So, the next day, I ask Jill if I can talk to her.

"There's nothing else available, and even if there were, I need you in the fitness center from 8 – 5, Mondays through Fridays," she tells me when I ask her about taking on a second job at Meadows.

"What about the weekends?"

"What about them?"

"Is there any job that I can take on during that time?"

She grabs ahold of her hips and gives me a sigh. "Remi..."

"I'm serious. I can handle the extra work, Jill, and I promise, it won't interfere with my weekdays."

She looks at me and considers my argument. "Let me ask around and see if there's something that we can find for you."

"Thank you, Jill," I say, giving her a smile, and she just pats my back before walking off.

I'm feeling somewhat hopeful. That is, until Jimmy comes up to the front desk where I'm standing.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he begins, and I immediately doubt his words, "but if you're looking for work on the weekends, I can help."

I narrow my hazel eyes at him, then decline. "No, thanks."

"You sure? I overheard you talking with your boss. Could've sworn you said something about extra work."

"Nope, never said that."

I shift my body away from him and towards the computer screen.

"Look, Remi, I'm sorry about what happened between us. I'm sorry for screwing you over, for embarrassing you. But I'm just trying to help you."

I center my body to look at him. "Why would you want to help me?"

"Because. At the end of the day, you're a nice person, and I'd like to think of myself as one, too. You clearly need a helping hand. Let me offer you mine."

"What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Yeah. What do you want in return?"

"Nothing," he chortles, and I look at him skeptically. He presses one palm to his chest and raises the other. "I promise."

I squint my eyes at him, trying to sense his honesty. He seems truthful.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Before you laugh – or say no – hear me out," he begins. And all I can think is that this doesn't seem promising. "I play golf with a few friends every Sunday morning from 9 – 1, and we're looking for a caddie."

"A caddie?"

"Yeah, someone who handles our gear while we're playing."

I shoot him a glaring look. "I know what a caddie is. I just can't believe you expect me to agree to that."

He looks at me in disbelief. "What's wrong with being a caddie?"

"Everything. I'm not going to carry your shit and follow you and your pretentious crew around like I'm some sort of personal assistant."

"We're not pretentious." I blink at him like he's got to be kidding. "We're not!"

"Uh-huh."

I look away and continue to type on the keyboard, but feel his eyes on me.

"Look, I gotta run," he says. "But the offer stands. You know where to find me if you change your mind."