His eyes hold mine as he takes it from me. “Thank you.” He nods and then turns, and I watch him walk toward the door. Shit… that’s it?

Turn around and ask me out, damn it.

He stops on the spot and I hold my breath, he turns back. “April, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I smile. “I hope so.”

He dips his head, and with one more breathtaking smile, he turns and walks out onto the street. Like a little kid, I pick up a cloth and practically run to the front of the café so I can watch which direction he takes.

I pretend to wipe a table near the window so I can spy.

Sebastian walks past a few shops, and I see him take a sip of his coffee and then wince. He screws up his face, and with a shake of his head, he throws it in a trash can.

What? After all that, he didn’t even drink it!

My mouth falls open.

“Am I going to get served here or what?” the rude man calls from the counter.

“Yes, of course, sir.” I fake another smile and make my way back to the coffee machine.

You’re going to get the worst fucking coffee I’ve ever made, asshole.

And judging by Mr. Garcia’s reaction, that’s pretty bad.

I walk down the corridor of Holmes Court, my dormitory accommodation at university.

I think I flunked my exam, damn it.

The sound of laughter echoes through the hall, and a faint techno beat can be heard in the distance. Coming home to this place is a living Hell.

I have never hated living somewhere as much as I hate it here. I mean, everyone is nice enough, but I feel like their grandmother. At the age of twenty-five, I’m considered a mature student, yet for some unknown reason, my scholarship houses me with the freshmen, all of which are eighteen and on their first leave of absence from home.

Everyone is either blind drunk or having sex, and I don’t really care what they do, but do they have to make so much fucking noise when they do it?

This place is like a twenty-four-seven nightclub. They party all night and sleep all day.

How they are actually passing any of their subjects is beyond me.

I exhale heavily as I trudge up the stairs. The music is getting louder now. Of course, it is.

Penelope Wittcom: my neighbor and arch enemy. We share a common wall and on my side of it, I try to study, sleep and be a respectable student. On her side it’s party and orgy central. Her bedroom is known around campus as the ‘Rave Cave’.

Open all fucking night.

She even has a disco ball in there.

People come and go at all hours, slamming doors, partying and yahooing. To be honest, I think she may be dealing drugs. She has to be. Nobody can be that popular and have so many visitors. It’s annoying that she’s so intelligent and she’s going to become a computer scientist.

And that’s not the worst of it by far.

I’ve never heard so much screaming during sex in my life!

I’ve lost count at how many men she has gone through. I mean, good for her—at least one of us is getting it—but does she have to howl every time she comes?

I’ve put in complaints. I’ve requested to move buildings. I’ve done everything possible. But it’s pretty hard to be heard when Penelope is sleeping with the floor manager.

And besides, I’m on a scholarship. I’m not paying to live here so I have to suck it up.

I just have to get through the rest of this year, and hopefully my grades will be good enough to get a scholarship to return to The States.

When I left my cheating, douchebag ex-husband Roy, I walked out with nothing. Every cent I had earned is in the house that he still lives in, and until he agrees to sell it, I have to live with the fallout.

I’m in my second year of law school, which I’m so proud of, but I also need to live while I study. I’ve applied for every job under the sun but my course hours are intense, and nothing ever seems to fit in with my schedule. I’m grateful for my job at the café, but with only three shifts a week, it just doesn’t pay enough for me to get an apartment of my own. So, for now, this is my life.

The music is really pumping when I walk past Penelope’s room. Her door is propped open. Four or five guys are sitting on her floor, and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke invades the corridor.

I walk past them without so much as a smile, and I close my door behind me. The loud music only softens a little, so I put my headphones on. Who knew I would need noise cancelling headphones just to get through my day?

I flick the television on, which is connected by Bluetooth to my headphones. I grab a mineral water from the fridge, flop onto the couch, and I begin to scroll through my phone. I open an email.

Subject: Application.

From: Club Exotic.

To: April Bennet.

Congratulations, April.

You have been successful in securing an interview with Club Exotic.

We look forward to meeting you at 290 High Street, London East, at 11:00 a.m. on the 22nd of next month.

We pay above National minimum wages, have an excellent career development pathway plan, and we are recruiting ten team members to join our beloved crew.

Please RSVP within seven days of receiving your invitation.

Club Exotic.

I sit up instantly.

I applied for this job months ago. A girl who used to work at the café worked at Club Exotic one night a week at the bar, and it covered her entire rent.

I jump off the couch in excitement.

I mean, I know it’s not ideal. It’s a gentlemen’s club, but it is only behind the bar.

How hard can it be to pour drinks?

Plus, I’ve had to listen to Penelope having sex every night for free, anyway. I’m pretty sure my pure eyes and ears can handle anything these days.

If I don’t find something beforehand, this could work out okay. I speed read the email again. Gosh, that’s five weeks away, though.

Damn it, five weeks is a long time.

My phone begins to vibrate.

“Hello.”

“Hello, April?”

“Yes.” I don’t recognize the voice.

“This is Anika from Club Exotic.”

“Oh,” I frown. “I actually just opened an email from you.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m calling. We’ve just had somebody leave without notice and you were the first person on our interview list who has answered.”