Rascal (Rascals Book 1)
Katie McCoy
1
Alex
There aren’t many things in this world worse than getting your period. Unless, of course, it’s 9:00 p.m. on a heavy-flow day and you’ve run out of tampons. And chocolate.
The silver lining to that particular tragedy, however, was the 24-hour drug store around the corner from my new apartment. Cue loading my basket with all the necessary “time of the month” essentials: pads, tampons, Chunky Monkey ice cream by the pint, and tons of other snack foods that were terrible for me and my waistline. I was grabbing Advil from the medicine aisle when my phone rang.
“We’re going out,” my BFF Kelsey said as a greeting.
I put my basket down and rolled my eyes, even though my best friend was unable to see either gesture. From the heavy bass I could hear in the background, and the way she had practically shouted into the phone, I could tell that Kelsey was already out. Her PR job pretty much demanded she spend her weeknights partying with fashion people, but my job had very different demands.
“No can do,” I told her reluctantly. “I’ve got a stack of case files waiting for me at home.”
As a lowly associate at a law firm, my job meant long hours at the office and then even longer hours at home, catching up with work and trying everything I could to get ahead. The firm I worked for was one of the best in Chicago and I intended to do everything in my power to make my mark there.
I knew Kelsey was sympathetic to my plight, but that didn’t mean she was going to stop pressuring me to join her out on the town. Especially since I knew she hated going out by herself.
“Come on! You need to lighten up!” she shouted to be heard above the music. “It’s Friday night!”
I winced and held my phone away from my ear. She was right. It was Friday night, and most twenty-five-year-old single women in Chicago would kill for an invitation like this. Kelsey was probably out at one of the hottest clubs in town, surrounded by gorgeous men. Of course, since she worked in fashion, most of them were probably gay, but hey, eye candy was eye candy.
Unfortunately, my schedule didn’t include a break for ogling handsome men, at least not tonight.
“I’m sorry, I have to work,” I said. “But have a drink for me, OK?”
Kelsey groaned. “You’ve been so boring ever since you landed this job!”
“You mean since I landed my dream job?” I laughed. Kelsey might look like a party girl, but she was a party girl with ambition. That’s why we were friends. She had big dreams too.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, but I could hear the smile in her voice. “Well, tonight your dream job is seriously cramping our dream social life.”
“Right now, my dream social life involves a bath and Netflix,” I countered.
“Like I said,” Kelsey said. “Bo-ring.”
“Depends on the movie,” I grinned. “I’ve got a set of trashy chick-flicks all lined up. You keep your party, I’m snuggling up with Chris Pine and Tom Hardy tonight.”
Kelsey laughed. “OK, you win. Just remind me how much longer I’m going to be without my wing woman. When does this silly competition end?”
“It’s not silly,” I said. “Three people vying for one position is the complete opposite of silly.”
“They should just make you all fight it out to the death,” Kelsey suggested. “Might be more fun.”
“More fun for you,” I laughed. “Though, I bet Bryce and Lucinda would be down for hand-to-hand combat.”
Bryce and Lucinda were the two other junior associates at the firm. And all three of us knew that only one of us would be asked to stay at the end of the summer. We all wanted that slot. We all wanted it bad. Maybe a Hunger Games-style death match wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. I might have been slighter than frat boy Bryce, and less graceful than elegant, posh Lucinda, but I was scrappy. And scrappy usually won battles like that. Because we had to. Because we don’t have the option to fail.
“Come on,” Kelsey begged. “Just come out for a drink. Or two. Three, tops.”
“I can’t,” I told her. “Besides, even if I didn’t have work, Auntie Flo just came to town.”
“Your aunt is in town? Why didn’t you tell me?” Kelsey demanded.
“You’re having a blonde moment,” I teased her.
“You know I don’t have an Auntie named Flo because Auntie Flo means . . .” I gave her a moment to catch up.
“Oh right!” she laughed. “Well, fine. As long as Chris and Tom don’t mind. Next time, though, you and me are going out!”
“It’s a deal. Good night, Kelsey,” I told her.
“Good night, Alex,” she mimicked playfully and hung up.
I smiled, picked up my basket of precious supplies, and headed to the beauty supply aisle to grab a bag of bath salts. My new studio might have been lacking things like space or windows, but it did have a cute old claw-foot tub. And my case files could wait a half hour or so while I tried to soak my troubles away.
But thoughts of cramps and baths and literally everything else flew out of my head as a guy walked into the store. A hot guy. A really, really hot guy.
Forget about Chris and Tom, my Netflix boyfriends, this guy had them both beat. He was tall and gorgeous, with dark brown hair that fell boyishly across his forehead. He was wearing a plaid shirt that fit him perfectly, emphasizing a narrow waist and a broad chest, and a pair of well-worn jeans that clung to his thighs. He walked past, and I quickly averted my eyes, knowing that I had been full on staring. Gawking. But I couldn’t resist taking a peek at him as he walked away.