In Between Times (Complete Novel, Mastered May 12th, 2022)

CHAPTER SEVEN

AMELIA:

For the remainder of the week, I made it appoint to miss interaction with Parrish completely. I still saw him sometimes, like the back of his head occasionally. His butt...

I just had to give up on some quiet room time in order to successfully do so.

Callie told me I should give him a chance, and that I have to say yes if he asks me out.

But the thing with that is: I don't see it happening.

I just see Parrish wanting a hookup, or a random make-out break in between times. In the quiet room. Because my dumbass told him to kiss me his first day of work, which was also the day I met the damn guy. And I already know I would be okay with it if he tried something like that. He's different and I don't like it. I can see my own heart breaking in the reflection of his eyes. That's why it's important to stay away from him.

He's been distracting me all week, and I haven't even talked to him since that first day. He's been distracting me from my life. Almost as bad as the absence of my mother did when I first moved to Vegas, but in a completely different way.

I rub the sleepiness from my eyes as I move up in line. I haven't been to the bank in three weeks. I forgot to update my account, which isn't like me at all. It's important for me to update at least once a week, or I could possibly get in trouble with the IRS if my activity doesn't add up right. I'm making pretty much all of my money by gambling underage. I near the front of the line, and a window is soon open for me. I walk up to it as the bank teller greets me.

"I'd like to add this to my savings account, please," I say to the bank teller, as I slide seven-grand along with my real ID and my bank card to her under the clear glass window.

She shakes her curly blonde hair to the side to rest on her shoulder as she adjusts her black-rimmed glasses on her nose. Her eyes go wide as she counts out the money, but she tries to act normal when she hands me back my things along with my receipt.

Eighteen-year-old girls don't typically save money. But they definitely don't add seven grand to their savings account at one time. Typical eighteen-year-old girls don't have the hobby to gamble in casinos either, however. If they did, I doubt they'd be as good as I am. I've been averaging a good seventeen-grand per month since I started going to the casino once a week. About eight months ago is when it really started. Right before I got the job at the diner. I'm only working there to keep my brothers, and also the IRS off my radar. I've been depositing seven grand into my savings account and two grand into my checking account every month to appear to be a normal civilian.

Only I screwed up this month, and forgot to update. I usually deposit all of this money in chunks. At the end of every week, I add two grand into my savings, and five hundred into my checking. I'll add the two grand to my checking tomorrow. It is just too risky to add it today.

I walk out the doors as I put my things in the fanny pack wrapped around my waist. I don't do purses, but I only use this thing when I have to go to the bank, or when I am going to spend money. When I go to the diner, the only things I ever have on me are my keys and my cell phone. I usually leave everything at home, hidden. I get paranoid.

I swing my leg over my moped just when I see a familiar truck pull into the parking spot aside from me. I freeze when I see that it's Parrish.

I curse under my breath, and still where I am. I don't move. How does he do things like this to me? I tend to lose the use of one of my physical functions, or the sense of my brain to think — every time he looks my way. It's annoying.

"Hey," he says calmly. He shuts his door as his eyes remain on me. He slides his hands in his pockets as I stay dumbly silent.

"I haven't seen you around the diner," he speaks again after a few beats of silence.