8. Athena
CHAPTER 8
Athena
SEPTEMBER 2020
A weird, fluttery feeling settled in my stomach this morning when I left my apartment.
My apartment.
Even that sounds too grownup for where I’m at. But it’s true. I picked up the keys last month, and as of a few days ago, and many thanks to my brothers and some of their high school teammates, I’m all moved in. I need to do a little shopping; my meager belongings don’t take up much space in my home in downtown Cedar Rapids.
Papá insisted on buying me a place of my very own before heading off to college. He claims his father did it for him. Of course, I insisted on buying the place for myself, which I guess made him somehow even prouder at my first, major financial investment.
Despite being eighteen years old and owning my first house, stepping out into the big bad world by my big girl self is kind of scary. Most of my friends from high school weren’t really my friends, and the two people I know coming to the University of Cedar Rapids this semester are doing something… sciencey.
It’s strange being the only de la Pena here, which in itself is weird, right? I’m the oldest of the four, which means I’m generally the first to do damn near everything. But this… this feels like something else, something big, maybe even bigger than me.
A lump forms in my chest, and I rub it with a closed fist, but the fear doesn’t leave. Going to college is pretty much a rite of passage in my family. It wasn’t offered as an option, it was assumed as a goal, and now I’m here, I feel all kinds of lost. Another feeling I’m not accustomed to.
Same me, same town, but existing in a new place. Alone. It’s totally weird sleeping in a building where my brothers aren’t arguing and play fighting down the hall, and Papá isn’t yelling down the phone at some asshole businessman he’s threatening to destroy.
I’m not sure who I am outside the shadow of my family, but I suppose it’s time to find out?
That starts right inside the building I’m standing outside. It’s a kitschy little café called Bitches Brew, it’s painted bright pink, like everywhere inside and is sending good vibes my way.
I could use a little pick me up, a shot of caffeine to get the college student juices flowing. As I step inside, a warm cloud of coffee laced heat hits me in the face. September in Iowa isn’t exactly warm and toasty. As much as I love fall, there’s nothing worse than being cold, especially in a coffee shop with a hot pink bicycle hung on the wall.
The menu’s overwhelming, it has a list of famous people and fancy, frou-frou drinks that all have my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling. The Ariana Grande looks good, though I’ll get it with an extra shot because I can already feel like it’s going to be one of those days. And a slice of quiche because my grumbling stomach reminds me that despite officially being a grown up, I haven’t yet eaten today and it’s almost eleven.
Being a grownup isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Getting myself out of bed on time for school was always a talent of mine, I’m up with the birds, but feeding myself on a schedule seems to be a step too far.
There’s a long to-go line, but the café’s pretty empty, there are two guys at a table staring at a hot blonde sitting in the corner reading a book with a half-naked guy on the cover. One of them hands the other a crisp ten-dollar bill and from the snide looks on their faces I’d say they’re about to be assholes.
I smile at the barista. “Thank you. Keep the change.”
“You sure?” She scrunches up her face as she looks at the bill in her hand.
I nod.
Her face lights up. “Taryn.”
“Athena.”
“Freshman?”
I nod again, wondering what gave me away.
“I haven’t seen you here before.” She explains like she’s trying to settle my nerves that I’ve got some kind of neon sign over my head saying I’m new here, and this is my first day.
Something about the two guys eyeing the girl like she’s a piece of fresh meat is sitting weirdly in my stomach.
Taryn jerks her chin at the guys I’m staring at. “Sharks. You might want to warn your friend that she’s in their crosshairs.”
“What’s she drinking?”
“Ruth Bader-Brewsburg.”
When my eyes dart to the menu board above her head, she takes pity on my confusion. “Dark chocolate mocha.”
“Can you add one to my order please?”
There’s a knowing glint in her eye as she smiles. “Sure thing, I’ll bring it over. Take a seat.”
As I turn to move, so does one of the sharks. He saunters up to my not-yet-a-friend’s table and waits for her to drag her gaze away from the pages of her book.
His slimy hand that’s just pocketed his buddy’s Jackson shoots out next to her face as he turns on the charm. I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s smooth and clearly has the moves, but I’m somehow more convinced than ever that his motives aren’t pure.
She eyes him with cautious wariness like she’s not sure of his intentions either. Do guys just walk up to women in coffee shops to hit on them? I have no idea, but it’s what I’m about to do. I’d like to think all things being equal she’ll favor me over Mr. Too much hair gel and an entire bottle of cologne.
“Order’s in.” I drop my satchel on the floor and slide into the seat facing her. “Oh, did you pick up a friend while I was ordering drinks?” I smirk at him, a saccharine smile that says don’t mess with me, or mess with my girl.
Unfortunately for me, his friend—the one who handed Captain Cool Waters here, took my entering the chat as an invitation to make this little trio a quartet.
Over my dead body, asshole.
“Can we buy you ladies a drink?”
I hold my smile. “Thanks, but we’re good. We have refills on the way.” I gesture to my now super confused looking about-to-be friend’s almost empty mug.
I try to telepathically convey my concerns—backed up by Taryn’s calling them sharks—to the gorgeous blonde sitting across from me. If she is bi or gay I’m absolutely shooting my shot with this chick, her blue eyes are stunning.
Her cheeks fill with an adorable red blush as she watches me watching her.
“I said we’re good.” My voice is harder, my smile faltering, and if these assholes don’t back up and give us some space, I’m about to cause a fucking scene and get kicked all-the-way out of my new favorite coffee shop.
I can’t go to jail on my first day of college, so I swallow down the bubbling at the back of my throat, the angry feminist rampage just waiting to burst forth and singe these fuckers where they stand.
“Aw. C’mon, you don’t mean that.” Asshole one grabs a chair and drags it up next to Blondie. He elbows her. “We can hang out, right?” He leans over toward her in a seemingly innocent move, but he leers down the V-neck of her shirt, and she shudders, like visibly . “We can be friends?” Something about the way he leans into the word friends makes my skin crawl. Is there anyone who has fallen for their almost creepy double act?
“Like she said, we’re cool, thanks anyway.” Her polite dismissal falls on undeterred faces as Asshole two pulls a chair closer to me.
I drum my fingernails on the table and lick my top teeth, my breath catching in a hiss. “No is a complete sentence.” My voice is calm, steady, and loud enough to be heard by both these douche canoes. “Leave us alone, or I’m going to escort you both out of our space.”
They share an uncertain look, but Asshole two doubles down and has the au-fucking-dacity to drape his left arm around the back of my chair like he’s known me my whole goddamn life. He curls his arm around my shoulder and pulls me toward him like he somehow has a claim to any part of my person. His fingers creep closer to my boob.
Are you kidding me?
My eyes meet the blonde woman’s, and her brows shoot up. She’s thinking the same thing.
Then this motherfucker flexes his hand. He fucking flexes those digits.
I think the fuck not.
I grab his middle finger with my right hand, the one not pinned by his grimy mitts touching my fucking body and bend it backward.
We leap off the chairs at the same time, but I don’t let go of his digit. He howls, his face contorted in a twist of shock and pain.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” My voice is a sneer, and I now don’t give a flying fuck who may be witnessing this exchange. “Did your finger get stuck in my hand on your way to copping a feel of my tits?”
He’s hissing through his teeth like he’s somehow in control of making the pain go away, so I tug a little harder to remind him who’s the one in control of this situation of his making.
“Ah. Ah. Ah. Ow. Ow. Let go. Let go you PsychoBitchLetGoOfMyFinger!”
His words all run together as I twist and bend his hand back even further.
“Forget your manners?” My sickly-sweet smile is back as he fights without a chance of breaking free of my death grip. I haven’t started self-defense classes yet but they’re on my to-do list. It was the only way I could convince my brother’s I’d be fine being across the town by myself without their big, brooding hockey-player selves throwing their weight around at anyone who looks sideways at me.
“Self-defense lessons, non-negotiable.” Apollo wagged his finger in my face while Artemis smoldered and huffed ten feet away, glaring at me from under his furrowed brow.
I’ve got this guy by the finger, and oh-my-God, is he? Yup, he’s crying real tears.
“Are you sorry?” I tug his finger.
He nods.
“Are you going to fuck all the way off and leave us alone?”
Another nod.
I cast a hard glare at his buddy, he’s nodding his agreement too.
“If I ever see or hear about either of you pulling this crap again, I’ll rip off your nuts and toast them over an open fire. Are we clear?”
More silent nodding. I release the guy’s finger and for a moment it seems like he’s contemplating squaring up to me, but Taryn appears with our drinks and my quiche.
When the boys turn to leave, it’s my turn to say “Ah, ah, ah.” I hold out my hand. “My dude, you owe my girl here that Jackson in your pocket.”
Both men at least have the decency to blush. Asshole two, still rubbing his finger, shakes his head and strides away from us muttering about how insane I am, while Asshole one hands over his wrinkled twenty-dollar bill to my now thoroughly confused and probably more than a little bit scared, potential friend.
When the bell over the door signals their departure and Taryn’s left us with the drinks and my snack, I turn my attention to the blonde whose eyes are now burning a hole in my cheek from staring at me.
“Athena.” I hold out my hand to her. “Freshman.” I give her a hopeful smile, but somewhere in the pit of my stomach I’m afraid I’ve potentially scared away my first prospective best friend candidate.
Her eyes meet mine with warmth as she accepts and shakes my hand in return. “Savannah. Also a freshman.”
Relief that I’ve found another out-of-water newbie-fish courses through me as I hold her hand for a beat longer than is likely deemed acceptable. “Put me out of my misery, are you straight?”
She laughs, that gorgeous stain blooming in her cheeks as she holds up her hands. “Guilty as charged.”
“Okay, fine. I suppose I won’t hold that against you, but if you change your mind and decide you want to dip your toe.” I point to myself. “I’m first in line, okay?”
She nibbles her lip, the blush in her cheeks growing as she fiddles with the handle of her coffee cup. “Thanks for this.” She gestures to the door. “And for saving me from whatever that was.”
I shrug, taking a giant bite of my quiche and washing it down with a long drink of my coffee. “It was nothing. Us girls gotta stick together, right?” I hold my mug out to her and smile as she lifts hers to clink it against mine.
“Right.”