Read Online The Opposite of Nothing by Shari Slade - Free Book Online Page A

you’re right for this job. It’s a fifty dollar stipend, paid in cash, at the end of each class.”
    “Cash?” He rubbed his damp palms on his shirt. Take clothes off, accept cash, repeat, problems solved.
    “Is that a problem?” She tilted her head, looking up at him like he’d suddenly started speaking Greek. He could feel the eyes of every single student studying their exchange. He felt naked already. The light bulbs in here had to be tiny nuclear reactors. He squinted against them. Was it a problem? Fuck, yes.
    “Actually, I don’t think I can sit still. Not for more than a few minutes. Sorry.” Maybe he could start flushing money directly down the drain. He exited the hot little room, full of scrutinizing gazes, with empty pockets. Dignity. Respect. Shit. He’d never had those. Why the hell did he care?
    * * *
    C allie paced the cracked sidewalk in front of her building, expecting to see the familiar, dented grill of Tayber’s car turning the corner at any second, terrified that the tiny flicker of hope she’d nursed since last night would be snuffed out the instant she opened her mouth. She sucked in a breath when he appeared on foot, illuminated by the glow of her neighbor’s porch light. So, they really were going for a walk. He bobbed his head in her direction and broke into a jog.
    “H-hey.”
    The slightly breathless huff reminded her of exertion. She imagined that almost-pant against her ear, how warm his breath would be, how strong his hands... Shit. She hugged herself against a chill she was now too warm to feel.
    “Why didn’t you drive? I didn’t think we were really going to walk.”
    “I can’t be health conscious?” He fisted his hands and struck an exaggerated body builder pose. “You know this body doesn’t happen by itself.”
    Laughter bubbled up inside her, despite, or maybe because of, all her tense yearning. “Says the guy who eats three bowls of rainbow loops for a snack.”
    “They’re a part of a balanced breakfast. It says so on the box.”
    “Do you believe everything you read?” Her mouth went dry. Did she really just say that? He believed too much of what he read. From her, anyway.
    “Only on cereal boxes.”
    They fell into pace beside each other, the sidewalk breaking up beneath their feet the further they got from the semi-disreputable outskirts of campus. Dilapidated row houses spreading apart, patchy brown lawns turning into actual yards with narrow driveways. Working class houses, with rusted swing sets and front windows glowing TV blue. Eventually, they were walking on the shoulder, the shadowy stretches between streetlights giving her time to shore up her armor.
    “How did your uh, thing go?”
    “The thing was a shitty job interview, and I blew it. So we walk, because I can’t afford aimless drives around town while you unburden yourself on my willing shoulder.”
    “I don’t need to unburden anything. I’m fine. And I could chip in on gas. We don’t have to—”
    “I don’t have gas money, period. Or phone money. Or housing money. I’m screwed.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, maybe to find some loose change he’d forgotten, or to hide their emptiness. Her own palms itched to hold those empty hands. To squeeze. To soothe.
    “So take the summer session off. Go home, re-group. Not graduating early isn’t the end of the world.”
    “I can’t go home. I don’t think I have a home anymore. And I don’t have enough financial aid left to cover tuition and my dorm.”
    She almost asked how that could be, him not having a home. But she knew how that could work. She looked back in the direction of her own small apartment. The apartment her mother paid a full year’s lease on, just so she didn’t have to deal with Callie coming home too often. “It makes sense, dear.” Her mother had chided. “If we’re going to pay all this money for an apartment, then we should save on transportation, shouldn’t we?”
    She didn’t want to go home