When Anth and I passed the campus, he turned to me.

"Address?" He asked, glancing from the road.

I was startled for a minute, and then I realized he had to take me home.

"Oh, yeah. Um--I'm at the apartment building on the corner of Rye and Pennington," I said, then adding, "You know where that is?"

Anth said gruffly "Yep."

Yep. That was it. A one word answer that seemed to say so much. Translation: you're on my nerves and I no longer want to talk to you. So I'll make it look like I value what you're saying by responding, but in no way, shape, or form do I actually want to go into depth with you.

I started drumming my fingers on the side of the car, head nodding as I glanced out the window. I felt Anth's gaze, and I turned my head. He was staring at me in utter annoyance.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Could you just--not?" He asked, pointing to my drum solo.

I stopped, immediately feeling awkward. I held my hands in my lap, and didn't say anything. Hearing Anth's loud sigh, I saw his hand reach out and turn on the radio. Again, the music came through like bad connection.

I didn't complain, because I knew that would've led to another disappointing conversation. I didn't really want to get murdered in the passenger seat of a stranger's car. I let out a relieved sigh as the building I called home was in sight.

When Anth parked the car, I got out in a hurry, and I didn't say bye when leaving the car. Sure, call it rude, but it wasn't like he said bye to me. So I just left, shutting the car door gently behind me, and asked to be buzzed in.

 I glanced over my shoulder and noticed Anth was starring at me. Feeling like a kid whose mother caught him red-handed in the cookie jar, I waited for Michael. Curse me for forgetting my key! 

"Come on Mike," I muttered, tapping my foot impatiently. I held down the buzzer again, kind of shouting into the pad for him to get 'his sorry ass out of bed'. Then I threatened to destroy his baseball card collection.

That seemed to do the trick, because I heard a slam of a door. Again, I found myself looking back at Anth--and I yelped. 

Anth raised an eyebrow at me, "Are you okay?"

"What are you doing?!" I demanded, trying to ignore the fact that I just yelped like a little girl. He scared the bajeezus out of me. I looked back and he was standing right there; I didn't even hear him open the car door.

"Well, I've been sitting over there for the past five minutes. Do you actually live here? Or have you forgotten that too?" He asked, his voice spiteful.

Before I could come up with a snarky response, the door whipped open. Mike's blonde hair was every which way, and his brown eyes were filled with annoyance. It seemed like the bags under his brown eyes doubled since I last saw him. I could smell the cigarette smoke radiating off him like a teenage boy drowning himself in cologne, and to make matters worse, it appeared he hadn't even thought about personal hygiene. Stubble covered his face like a teenager with acne problems, and his hair was greasier than a car mechanic's hands after an oil change.

"Bloody hell, Wyatt?" Mike demanded, his voice more British than American. It only happened after he was hungover. So it meant that he was drinking and smoking. "Who in the name of Pete wakes up this early in the mornin'?"

"It's ten," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Eh, really?" Mike's brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at his watch.

I heard Anth let out an annoyed huff, which I responded by giving him an icy glare. I saw him roll his eyes, but he didn't say anything else to my relief.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" Mike asked, giving me a look that said 'you're inconveniencing my life'. "Cause my pasties are probably--"

He was cut off by the sound of the smoke alarm.

"Sh*t Michael!" I cursed, running past him. I heard Anth calling my name, but I was already up the stairs and into the apartment.

"Sh*t!" I cursed again, coughing as the smoke filled my lungs. I ran over to the oven where the pasties were on fire. I grabbed the fire extinguisher in the kitchen and just sprayed the pasties after turning off the oven. I kept spraying even after the fire was put out. When I was sure it wouldn't come back to life, I dropped the fire extinguisher and just took deep breaths. I didn't realize through the panic I stopped breathing for the time being.

When I turned around, I saw Anth and Mike opening up the windows to air out the smoke. I didn't even realize they followed me into the flat.

"You're an absolute idiot," Anth said, of course he had to give his opinion on the matter.

I didn't answer, and put on an oven mitt before throwing out the burnt pasties.

Anth let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing my elbow.

"Did you even  conceptualize what would've happened if the entire flat was on fire? You could've killed yourself or--"

"It was a small oven fire. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't die," I retorted, yanking my elbow out of his grip.

"But you could've--"

"If it was that bad, we wouldn't have heard the smoke alarm that soon. The fire must've just started," I pointed out. Anth was really testing my patience. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Anth's jaw was clamped shut, "I do."

And just like that, he walked out of the room just as quickly as he entered it. He slammed the door, and I didn't say anything until I heard the tin can he called a car drive away.

"He seems like a keeper," Mike said sarcastically as I heard him light a cigarette.

I took the cigarette out of his hand, "How many?"

"Eh! I paid for that!" Mike retorted angrily.

"Yeah, and I have to live with that," I said, pointing at him.

"I don't know what you're complainin' about, I'm fabulous," Mike said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I rolled my eyes, taking the ash tray away from him.

"Do the world a favor and shower, would ya? You're smelling like an onion," I pointed out. 

Mike scoffed, but he did what I said while I straightened up the flat. He really let the place go in a day. I made a mental note to not go on a vacation anytime soon, not that I could afford one anyway.

I decided I was going to take a sick day, not wanting to run into Anth again today. I was already paying for classes anyway, and it wouldn't matter whether I was there or if I wasn't. Probably half of the administration knew what happened to his grandfather, and they'd let him slide for today.

Even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter. He'd get his work done, and that's all that mattered to the people anyway. I left a note on the fridge after hiding the cigarettes and ash tray for Mike saying that I was going to be in the garage.

Behind the apartment building is an office building where you can rent out rooms for cheap. I rented out the small garage room in the back corner for my projects. I work at the mechanic shop on the corner of Helmont and I sell my wood work at the market. Sometimes Mike comes with me, and sometimes he doesn't. He's the local bartender around here, and he works at the coffee shop as a barista on the weekends. 

I unlocked the garage and pushed the garage door up. It had a string on the one end so it'd be easier for me to yank it down. The smell of polish, wood, and oil made me feel at home.

My current project was an old grandfather clock....well the goal was to make it look old. It was for Mrs. Peterson, the old lady on third street. She sold her clock when she was young, and she regretted it ever since apparently. She stopped by my table at market and requested me to make something for her.

I prayed she'd like it and that it wouldn't turn out cheap looking. So far, I had the base furnished. Now it was up to the small details and the molding. This part was my favorite, creating the small little details no one would notice unless they were up close and stared at the intricacy. Plenty of people forgot about the fine details, but that's what made things special and unique. It's what gets costumers to come back.

If they see how much you care and are passionate about something, they'll stick with you for life. It's because of the fine details, not just the finished product.

The garage was covered with wooden pieces and machines that I had to barter for. There were three lightbulbs hanging from wire on the ceiling. Not much light, but it did the job. That's what mattered. I didn't need some intricate fancy electricity, I just needed to be able to see.

So I spent an hour working on various projects. When I got bored with the clock, I moved on to the chairs I was almost finished with. Soon, it was time for lunch. I didn't realize how long it had been until I heard the two bangs on the garage door.

Mike huffed, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize when I signed the lease with you I'd become your babysitter."

"Sorry!" I said, though, not really sorry. I turned off the lights, set my tools down, and left the garage after locking it.

Mike just scoffed, "Come on, I'm enlisting your help at the bar."

"You know I don't drink," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but you got a semi-decent face. We'll split the tips fifty-fifty eh?"

"Seventy-five percent goes to me," I said.

Mike gave me a look before saying, "All you have to do is stand there and look pretty. I'm the one making the drinks. Fifty-Fifty or I'm raising my cut."

I smiled, it felt good for things to get back to normal.

"Fine, but only this once. And because you asked so nicely," I said sarcastically.

"Ass-wipe," Mike said, shoving me.

I gave him a look, "Hey, you need those ass-wipes whether you want to admit or not."

Mike gave me a deadpanned look, and I laughed.

"Come on, it's almost happy hour," I joked.

"It's always happy hour," Mike pointed out, saying the bar's slogan in a monotone voice.

|=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=|

We arrived at Midnight's Secret an hour before Mike's shift. It was pretty relaxed in the bar, and the owner didn't care about what happened as long as the money kept rolling in. So Mike was able to do anything he wanted, really.

It was the only job he could really keep besides the coffee shop his brother owned. Mike only worked there to help his brother's business, and he would lie to his brother. Oscar, Ossie, would pay Mike because he worked there. He treated his brother like an employee, but he may have been guilty of not being as harsh with Mike. Unbeknownst to Ossie, Mike would cash out his checks and return them to the business so it looked like people actually showed up there. Mike never kept a penny, but it wasn't like he'd ever admit that he had a soft spot for his younger brother.

It made me think about Nat, and how I hardly even talked to her anymore. It was sad really, and embarrassing. Here's Mike, a washed up smoking drunk, who somehow still had a heart and cared about his brother when he could hardly look out for himself. And then there's me....and I seem better off than Mike, yet I'm hardly even keeping up the connection with Nat.

I'd see her this weekend....if I could last the weekend that is. But who was I kidding? I'd probably show up for an hour, get angry, and leave like I always do.

And that hour would be spent arguing with my parents and not even glancing in Nat's direction. It was so bad, that when I pictured her, she was still the little teenager just hitting puberty.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mike dragging me to the employee room. He tossed me a shirt that said 'Midnight's Secret' in a long, curvy font.

"Hurry up, Kathy's going to have my head on a silver platter if we don't get out there in like a minute," he said, while throwing on his shirt.

I nodded, and soon I was behind the bar with Mike. I put on my 'nice guy' facade. The cheesy smile that made people think I actually cared about what their ex had the audacity to do. My hair was mused up, courtesy of Mike, in a way that he said 'drove the ladies wild', whatever that meant. He told me once to play the military card, it made people buy extra drinks out of sympathy. I told him no, and he realized that it probably wasn't the best idea to p*ss off his roommate.

It was slow in the afternoon, but by the time it was six the place was booming. The band was here, and they had an amazing bassist.

A young girl, who looked about 21, walked over to the bar giggling.

"Charm er," Mike hissed under his breath as he gave this guy a pint of beer.

The smile was plastered on, "And what does the lucky lady want?"

It was then her friend came up, and I could tell right away this girl just turned twenty-one by the look on the other girl's face.

"Sorry, she's had a little too much. Amy," she said in a voice that was purely business.

She was definitely the Mom friend.

"I'm fine," Amy said, hiccuping as her words slurred.

"You're not fine," the 'Mom' pointed out.

Amy rolled her eyes, "One glass won't hurt."

"Maybe not for you, but I don't want my car to smell like your insides," the 'Mom' pointed out while dragging her wasted friend away from the bar.

It was fine, because another guy came up.

"And what'll it be for you?" I asked, voice sickeningly sweet.

The guy hardly gave me a second glance as he said, "Gin on the rocks."

I looked at Mike who fetched the drink, and I slid it to the guy.

"Be careful, I'm paying for this, and I don't want half my drink on the bar counter!" He snapped.

I gritted my teeth instead of punching his lights out, "I'll keep that in consideration. Have a lovely evening."

The guy rolled his eyes, while making a giant show of looking at his Rolex watch. I ignored the vain dude, and turned my attention to the woman walking up to the bar.

Again, I flashed her my charming smile, "And what'll it be for you ma'am?"

She smiled slightly, "Hmm...what do you recommend?"

"Well, what type of girl are you?" I asked.

"Kind of a cocktail girl, but I'm feeling adventurous today," she smirked.

I gave her a once over, and she was fairly decent. Probably a light weight, but Mike probably would've had better judgement.

"Hmm...Mike what do you think? Gin?" I asked, pondering the question.

"She'd like an old engine oil," he said, nodding his head. It was a thing we did, we'd give them something not too hard so they'd buy more. What could we say, they wanted a good time, and we were looking for money. It wasn't like we were cheating them or anything. They got what they wanted, and we got what we needed.

She shrugged, "I guess I'll try it."

Mike poured the glass, and I busied myself with talking to her. It was how it worked, depending on your costumer. If you got them talking, and they liked you, they'd bring their friends. And when they brought friends you knew that they were a fan.

Mike and I were pretty good at tag-teaming the whole bar thing. I didn't work there a lot, just a few times when I had nothing better to do and Mike needed the help. It was kind of fun pretending to be someone else and making others smile. But being like this everyday all day is not something I'd enjoy. I'd get tired of it, to be honest.

But it didn't matter, what mattered was I got money out of it. That meant I could cover this month's rent, groceries, and maybe put some into my savings. By the time it was midnight, Mike and I were able to leave. His shift was over, and Kennedy was running the bar.

I definitely could not see myself staying up that late and being able to please people. I'd definitely blow a gasket over the matter.

It was safe to say that by the time I showered and brushed my teeth, the second my head hit the pillow I was out cold. I knew Mike would tease me about it in the morning, but it didn't matter. I was exhausted and I had school tomorrow.

The life of being in college, am I right?