Priya: Girl, you earned that A+. Your paper was gold. I got an A.
Me: *high five emojis*
Unlike me, Priya’s been pulling A’s all semester, so her final grade is a lock.
I scoot out of the booth and grab my mug, carrying it up to the counter for a refill.
I’m scanning the daily specials as I make my way toward the line, deciding between a slice of pumpkin bread and a death by chocolate muffin, when I hit a wall.
“Oof.”
Strong hands grip my shoulders and awareness crackles over my skin like static electricity. When I look up, I’m staring into the most stunning crystal blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
Cooper.
My chest tightens, forcing the air from my lungs. He looks good. Lighter somehow. Unburdened. His eyes are bright and though he’s in desperate need of a haircut and shave, the shaggy look suits him.
“Quinn.”
I yank my headphones off, looping them around my neck.
“Hey, Cooper. I didn’t see you there.”Fucknuts. He probably thinks I plowed into him on purpose. Which I so didn’t. “Just getting a refill.”
I hold up my mug, in case he needs proof I’m not stalking him.
A slow smile spreads across his face and my stupid heart melts just a little.
Traitor.
“Excuse me.” I move to step around him, pretending I’m totally fine bumping into the man who broke my heart.
That’s right, no clingy exes here. Just a cool, confident woman.
“Actually, I was hoping to run into you.” He sweeps an unruly lock of hair off his forehead. “How have you been?”
Miserable, thanks.
“Busy. Studying for finals.” I shrug and gesture half-heartedly. “You know how it is.”
God, this sucks.
Never in a million years did I think things between Cooper and I could get this awkward.
“Yeah, it’s been a crazy week.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I change the subject. “Congratulations on making the Peach Bowl.”
If the Wildcats win, they’ll advance to the championship game. Coop and I may not be a couple anymore, but I know winning a national championship means the world to him. Waverly hasn’t won a title in fifteen years. They’re due.
“Thanks.” He shifts his weight and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s a hell of a way to ring in the new year.”
Images of a raucous post-bowl game celebration flood my brain and tears sting the back of my eyes.
Don’t think about it.
I blink, banishing the tears before they can fall. I will not cry in front of Cooper. “Think you guys are ready for Clemson?”
He frowns. “I didn’t come here to talk football.”
