Page 2 of I Knew He Was Trouble
But, for now, I’m enjoying the fact that we four girls made a pact during our senior year of high school that we would move back home and live together after we graduated college. And here we are, two years into being roommates in a quaint, historic house in Louisville, Kentucky.
I successfully steer clear of the squeaky floorboards and reach my bedroom. After settling onto my bed and taking another longdrag of coffee, I grab my computer off my nightstand. Most days, I clock in a few hours for my virtual assistant job in the early morning hours—thanks to Tyler’s music. While it’s not an ideal way to start my morning, at least I can knock some hours off my workday.
I spend the next two hours getting the weekly newsletter for the author I work for scheduled to send out tomorrow morning. I also create some marketing videos for her latest books. After emailing them to her, I head to the bathroom I share with Alyssa to get ready.
There’s a faint floral perfume scent lingering in the air, letting me know she’s already gotten ready for the day. I take a quick shower and blow dry my hair before applying minimal makeup. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see the exposed red brick wall behind me and smile. It’s always been my favorite original feature in the house.
Once I look presentable enough for work, I walk to my closet to select my go-to fall outfit: a sweater, black leggings, and white sneakers.
Today, I throw on the first top I can find—a soft, cropped tan sweater with balloon sleeves—that looks great paired with my high-rise leggings.
I head downstairs and smile at Alyssa, who automatically pours a cup of coffee into a to-go mug and adds the perfect amount of creamer. She passes it across the counter to me.
“Lyss, you’re the best.” I inhale the glorious smell before taking a sip.
She waves a hand in front of her like it’s nothing. “Where are you working today?”
Alyssa is the definition of a blonde bombshell. Not a single strand of her long locks of blonde hair is ever out of place. It’s usually half up in a high pony or space buns, always wrapped in silk scarves. Today, half of her hair is up in space buns with ditsyfloral print scarves tied around them, the remainder falling past her shoulders in gentle curls.
She always looks like she’s ready for a photo shoot or walked straight out of an Anthropologie catalog, but really, she’s a hairstylist. If she wasn’t one of my best friends, I would still choose to go to her in hopes that she could get my hair to resemble anything close to hers.
“I’ll be at Rise & Grind Café from eight to two, then I’ll walk Winston, Brutus, and Lilo before heading to Sunrise Springs from four to eight.” I slide my phone into my purse and put the strap on my shoulder. “I already clocked in a few hours this morning for my author assistant gig, so I should be free after my time at the assisted living facility.”
“Thanks to Tyler?”
I nod, rolling my eyes as I take a sip of coffee.
Alyssa shakes her head, her long blonde waves swishing around her with the movement. “I don’t know how you do it all. One job is exhausting enough for me. I can’t even begin to imagine juggling four of them.” She wraps her fingers around her coffee mug. “Will you finally be able to quit one soon? You have to be close to paying off your student loans by now.”
My lips pull up into what I hope looks like a genuine smile. “Hopefully.”
I hate hiding things from my friends, but I haven’t found the courage to tell them the real reason behind why I have four jobs. They think I’m simply trying to make ends meet and pay off my student loans, but I paid those off a long time ago. I have four jobs for an entirely different reason, one that I’m not willing to share with them—or anyone else—yet. Not while it still feels like an unattainable dream.
A quick glance at the oven clock has me grabbing my coffee cup and adjusting the strap of my purse. “I’ve gotta go. Will you tell Mal and Shay good morning for me?”
She nods. “Have a good day, Kels.”
I walk out the front door and down the porch steps to my car parked along the curb. Out of my periphery, I spot Tyler walking to his car. He’s wearing his stupid scrubs and a smug grin that I’d love to wipe off his face. Then there’s that rogue curl that always seems to fall onto his forehead…I’d love to cut it off while he’s sleeping.
I pick up speed, hoping he didn’t see me. But I’ve never been that lucky.
I’m fumbling with my car keys, trying to unlock my door, when his masculine voice calls out, “Stop letting your dogs in my yard.”
I press my lips together to bite back a laugh. Just yesterday, I gave all the dogs I walk an extra treat for peeing in his yard and all over his bushes. I can’t help it if all the dogs hate him, too. That sounds like a Tyler problem.
“Stop blasting your music before the sun is up,” I yell back as I finally get my car door unlocked.
Tyler’s expression falters and his brow furrows.
I roll my eyes at the audacity of that man to not even care about waking me up every morning. I don’t wait for a response and instead climb into my trusty white Honda Accord. After placing my travel mug in the cupholder, I shrug my bag off my shoulder, set it on the passenger seat, and carefully maneuver my way onto the road.
As I pass Tyler’s car, I glare at him.
“Bless your heart, TylerfreakingReed.”
“Feelbettersoon,buddy,”I say to the four-year-old boy I just diagnosed with influenza. His mother mouths the wordsorryto me, glancing at the new addition to my scrubs.
I offer her a curt nod. It’s not her fault her son threw up on me.
