The Captain and the Broken Girl

Casey's POV

My alarm goes off at five-thirty in the morning, and for a moment I consider throwing my phone across the room, not because I am tired. Okay, maybe because I am tired. I slept four hours after getting home from the club last night, and today is going to be another long day. Unfortunately, rent does not care if I am exhausted, and neither does tuition or groceries or electricity.

I groan and drag myself out of bed before I can convince myself to stay there. The apartment is small, old, and probably one strong wind away from collapsing, but it is mine.

Well, technically it belongs to my landlord but I pay for it. Every bill, every expense and every piece of furniture. Nobody helps me, nobody ever has. I shuffle toward the tiny kitchen and start making coffee while staring blankly at the wall. This is my life from classes, tutoring, work, studying, sleep and then repeat. It is not exciting and it is not glamorous but it keeps me alive.

Ten minutes later I am dressed in jeans, an oversized hoodie and sneakers as I rush out the door with a bag full of textbooks. The cold morning air hits my face immediately and I pull my hood up and start the walk toward campus.

My first class starts at seven and my first tutoring session starts at eight-thirty and the rest of my boring day to day life. The thought alone makes me tired.

By the time I reach campus students are already filling the walkways. Groups laugh together, couples hold hands and friends complain about assignments. I move around them without really paying attention. Being invisible has advantages: nobody bothers you, nobody asks questions, nobody expects anything.

"Casey!"

I stop walking. Damn it. I turn and find one of my tutoring students jogging toward me. His name is Adam, an engineering major and terrible at statistics but nice enough.

"Did you look at the practice questions?" he asks hopefully.

I stare at him. "It was seven in the morning when you sent them."

His face falls. "So that's a no?"

"Adam."

"Right." He sighs dramatically.

I almost laugh, almost. "I will see you at eight-thirty."

"You are literally the only reason I passed my last exam."

"I know."

"That sounded arrogant."

"It wasn't supposed to."

"It definitely was." I roll my eyes and continue walking while he laughs behind me.

The first class goes by quickly but the second does not. By the time I finish tutoring Adam and another student afterward, my brain already feels fried but unfortunately the day is only getting started.

I am leaving the library when a familiar voice catches my attention, no, actually several familiar voices the entire hallway seems louder suddenly. Students start turning their heads whispering and smiling. I already know who it is before I look.

Chris Lewis.

Hockey captain, campus celebrity and every girl's dream. I swear the guy cannot walk five feet without somebody staring at him, I look over despite myself. Chris stands near the entrance surrounded by teammates. He is tall, broad shoulders and dark hair, the kind of face that somehow looks good even when he is laughing. Which is annoying.

His teammates are talking over each other while he shakes his head then one of them says something that makes Chris laugh the sound carries down the hallway and several girls practically melt.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, honestly, I do not understand the obsession. Sure, he is attractive, objectively. But so what? That does not make him special. Rich boys like Chris Lewis spend their lives being worshipped. People tell them yes, people tell them they are amazing and people tell them they can do no wrong. I have never found that particularly impressive.

Chris looks up unexpectedly and our eyes meet. I immediately regret looking because recognition flashes across his face, not surprise but recognition. We know each other, well, sort of, unfortunately Rebecca made sure of that. The Roosevelt family attends enough charity events, fundraisers and social gatherings that eventually everyone ends up meeting everyone.

Rebecca spent years dragging me along to events she did not want to attend alone. Chris was usually there and so were his parents, his teammates and half the wealthy families in the city.

Chris always seemed nice enough, polite and friendly, the type of guy who remembered names. Still, nice rich boys are still rich boys. He gives me a small nod and I return it before I  keep walking because I have better things to do like survive.

Behind me I hear one of his teammates speaking. "Wasn't that Rebecca's sister?"

I keep walking, not my problem and not my conversation but still, I hear Chris answer. "Yeah. That's Casey."

Then I am too far away to hear the rest. Good, because I do not particularly care what hockey players discuss during their free time.

By lunchtime I have already finished two classes and three tutoring sessions. My stomach growls loudly enough that a girl nearby laughs. I buy the cheapest sandwich available and sit outside beneath a tree. The peace lasts approximately three minutes before my phone rings.

Rebecca. Of course.

I stare at the screen, consider ignoring it but answer. "What?"

"Hello to you too."

I close my eyes. "What do you need, Rebecca?"

Her sigh is immediate and dramatic as always. "There is a fundraiser this weekend."

I already hate where this is going. "No."

"You don't even know what I was asking."

"You want me to attend."

"See? You do know."

I rub my forehead. "Rebecca—"

"Mother wants us there." That is the real reason. I should have known my adoptive mother cares about appearances more than oxygen.

"If Mother wants something she can call me herself."

"She tried."

I freeze that gets my attention because Rita Roosevelt rarely calls me directly. "I will think about it."

"Casey."

"I said I will think about it." Then I hang up before she can continue and the silence afterward feels wonderful.

By six that evening I am finally walking toward the club. The sun has already disappeared and streetlights glow across the sidewalks. Most students are heading toward parties, dates or friends, you know normal college experiences but I am heading to work, again.

The club owner greets me immediately when I arrive. "You are late."

"I am two minutes early."

"Same thing."

I laugh despite myself before I  head backstage. Ten minutes later I step beneath the lights and the crowd quiets as the music begins and for the first time all day I breathe because this is the one place where I do not have to be the girl struggling to survive. I do not have to be Rebecca's unwanted sister and I do not have to worry about grades or bills or tomorrow.

I can just sing and for a little while that is enough.

Far across campus, completely unaware that his future is about to become a disaster, Chris Lewis is probably enjoying another perfect day in the life of a hockey captain and meanwhile, I am counting tips and wondering whether my electricity bill can wait another week.

Funny how different two lives can be even when they keep crossing paths.

What I did not know was that before the week was over, Chris Lewis was going to become my biggest client and my biggest headache.