"Different Tracks"-Part 1

Hello everyone and Happy 2015! With the new year I am bringing to you a brand-new free read. But this one will be better than the last. Why? Because I am not alone. This free read will be a round robin! I am kicking it off, but there are eight fabulous authors in this rotation. The other authors you will be reading are Bynn Stein, Grace Duncan, Suki Fleet, Elizabeth Noble, Kim Fielding, Lane Hayes and Charlie Cochet! New chapters will be posted every Monday and Thursday so be sure to check in and follow the whole story. I hope you are all as excited as I am because this is going to be amazing!! And now, without further ado, I present the first installment of "Different Tracks". Enjoy!

Part 1 

Xander couldn’t believe this. It was just a few freaking parking tickets. So what if he liked to speed? It wasn’t like he had killed anyone. He just had places to go and things to do. It had nothing to with the fact that people who drove the speed limit pissed him off because why the hell wouldn’t you go fifty-five on a flat, rural road? Why did you have to go thirty when there was nothing there? Xander felt his blood pressure shoot up just as he thought about it.

It wasn’t fair. Just because that cop was a dick, he had to spend every Saturday for the rest of the year doing community service. The dumbass probably thought he was a gang member with all of his tattoos. Cops were always stopping him to ask about his art for that very reason. Xander had never gotten into any of that shit but maybe he should have considering how often he got blamed for it. Besides, the only reason had gotten his ink in the first place was the fact that his skin was all white and pasty. That and he had always been on the small and scrawny side. Xander grew up in the not-so-great part of town and being small was not an asset. The tattoos had helped. At least at first. Now they got him glared at by cops at every turn.

Xander looked at the clock next to his bed and swore. It was already eight thirty and he had to be to the other side of town by nine in the morning. It wasn’t that far in miles but when there was a stop light every ten feet it could take a while. And Xander still needed to eat some breakfast. Grabbing his keys and wallet off the cheap nightstand that sat next to his unmade queen-sized bed, Xander headed out of the bedroom into the living room. Taking one last look to make sure he hadn’t left anything on, Xander went to the door and left the one-bedroom apartment.

A blast of hot air hit Xander in the face as he stepped into the hallway. It may have been late August in Pennsylvania but since the hallways in the old apartment building weren’t connected to any kind of air conditioning, it was easy for them to heat up rapidly. Xander never liked the heat and couldn’t help but be relieved as he stepped outside the building. The temperature was only a little bit better outside, but at least it wasn’t so stuffy. The real problem was the humidity. Heat in Pennsylvania always sucked. It wasn’t just the heat, which could be brutal. It was the fact that it made everything sticky. There was nothing worse than being sweaty and having your clothes stick to every inch of you.

Trying not to think about it, Xander got in his grey 1999 Honda Civic Coup parked in the apartment building’s parking lot and started down the street. He made decent time to the Dunkin Donuts a mile or so away from where he had to report for his community service. He got an iced coffee and an egg sandwich on a bagel, trying to ignore the looks we got from the help. He didn’t think he was wearing anything weird. Just a wife beater and some baggy jeans. And his hair was fairly tame today, his brown locks lying mostly flat, the edges just curling around the bottom of his ears. Xander just shrugged it off as being his tattoos again. Either that or the fact that he, a pasty white guy, was pretending to be black. He’d heard that one before too.

Once Xander got his breakfast, he left the restaurant as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to deal with the looks anymore. Once he was safely in his car, he took a sip of his drink and checked the directions one more time. It wasn’t too far away. Hell, he might even be on time. But this was still the last thing he wanted to do. Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Xander started up the car and drove the rest of the way to the site, eating his breakfast sandwich as he went.

Xander pulled up next to a few other cars at exactly 8:58. Satisfied, Xander took one more sip of his drink and got out of the car. He took a look around. Habitat for Humanity. Using his day off to build houses for needy people was certainly not his idea of fun. Sure, it was a good cause, he supposed, but why did it have to be him?

Groaning, Xander started to walk towards the construction site. The sooner he could get this over with the better.