Chapter 4 Coffee Date

Anna POV

While I wait for my Americano at the coffee shop, I tense up. I don't need to spend money on a weak cup of coffee, but Jess and Dean both ordered frothy Italian cups that cost four dollars apiece, and I don't want them to know that I can't afford one either. particularly Jess. She portrays poverty as a sin. She acts as if we are second-class citizens, which I detest. As though a few years ago, she wasn't one of us. But she seemed adamant about putting her previous troubles behind her.

Wish I had the same ability. But I'm still having trouble. In my life, a lot of crap is happening. Another week has passed, and I'm going to get another stack of bills in the mail. My school loan is still not paid off. But I still haven't secured employment. I always have to compete with overachievers since I live in a college town. Although I've always gotten high scores, I can only do so much. Even a cashier position that opened up a few days ago was quickly taken up by a fanatical science graduate since it was like meat in a crocodile tank.

Ridiculous.

I have no savings. I don't have any side businesses or valuable possessions to sell. I've used all the coins my mother gave me. I already owe Dean and Jess a lot of money, so I can't ask them for more. Ugh.

"Did the price of coffee just go up or something?" When I eventually get down at our customary table at the nearby coffee shop, I grumble. With each pricey sip of my little Americano, I miss the flavor of the frothy milk.

Dean sighs, his voice seeming matter-of-fact. "Probably," he replies. The cost of everything at cafes has increased. Everyone benefits the wealthy.

With her lipstick-pink iPhone in her other hand and a polished fingernail tracing the rim of her big coffee, Jess smirks a bit. "You're also wealthy."

Dean corrects her angrily, his gaze settling on the table. "My dad's rich," he says. His jaw tightens as he runs a hand over the gentle curls in his hair. "I received a scholarship to attend college."

Jess almost purrs the words, and they seem to soak into her mind as she gazes wistfully into the empty space in front of her. "Yes, because your dad is rich," she says.

I just watch them because Dean's tone is so obviously hostile compared to Jess' tone of enjoyment. My closest friend has always been in awe of Dean's father, but I now see that she has been doing a horrible job of concealing it. She must need money to support her lavish lifestyle, and Mr. Stryker's considerable financial resources make him an appealing proposition. the unlucky guy. He'll regret that if she ever gets her claws into him, I hope.

I've caught a few quick views of him through the tinted windows of his Tesla, and I can see he flaunts the physical attributes necessary to appeal to her target market. Tall. Dark. And really attractive. Yummy.

"My dad didn't assist me get into college. Additionally, money may get you there, but intelligence is necessary to have an influence. Or, at the very least, try to learn. I can't have folks come here and not be able to acquire even the most basic of financial aid, like a part-scholarship. How do they anticipate surviving after graduation? Dean shakes his head irrationally while muttering.

I scowl at his voice's obvious sense of entitlement. It seems like luxury and intellect combined make for a very unpleasant, snooty creature, don't they? I abhor this characteristic of his-the way he so beautifully describes it-"intellectually lesser folks." He believes that I am one of the lower people since I'm not the sharpest, hasn't received the greatest scholarships, and didn't grow up in a wealthy household. He obviously does not read the room, however. The ego is so black that it prevents individuals from seeing their own flaws.

Well done for being the most intelligent cookie. Good for him that he doesn't have to worry about internet bills or transportation expenses. But warmth should never be replaced by intelligence or riches.

I am sensitive to the fact that he is motherless, which likely explains my lack of empathy. I can see how he could have continual pressure to achieve better than his successful father as a result of these comparisons. However, he is not the first nor the last only child of a successful parent.

Does your father never share any of this with you? I believe not.

I wonder if it's because Mr. Stryker also thinks he's better than most people. I assume that's the case because many prosperous individuals do.

In any case, the whole discussion makes me feel angrier than I should. I retort, "I'm sure they work as hard as the rest," tilting my cup to take a drink, hoping the coffee would make me stop talking for a while.

Sure, anything. Before putting the wireless headphones on his ears, Dean only grunts. Before taking up his MacBook, he swipes over the screen of his phone. It's blatant rejection, but I'm accustomed to it. I don't even have to look at his phone to see that punk music is playing in his ear.

Jess continues to text on her phone while sensually chewing her glossed bottom lip, demonstrating her lack of interest in conversations about capitalism. She has been practicing the maneuver for so long that I don't believe she is aware of it. She claims that the males like it. More authority to her.

Both my buddies and I put up with my irritable demeanor. That is our approach, and it won't alter.

With a sigh, I lay back in my chair and hug my cup close to my breast as I contemplate how to escape the financial hole I find myself trapped in. We remain silent for the remainder of our coffee date, everyone immersed in their own thoughts.