That makes two of us, but the way he says it, part disappointment, part chastising, is too much.
The hurt and anger that have been stewing on the back burner for the last week finally bubble over.
“What did you come here to talk about?” I ask with a simpering smile. “How you broke up with me in front of all your friends? How you completely shattered my heart without the courtesy of an adult conversation? Or maybe you wanted to talk about how you thought it was your place to swoop in and save me from myself?”
For such a smart guy, Cooper can be really dense. How many times is he going to make the same mistake before he gets a freaking clue?
“If we could just—”
I don’t let him finish. He’s already said his piece. This time, he can damn well listen.
“Honestly, who do you think you are?” I poke him in his big stupid chest. “I might be a mess, but at least I learn from my mistakes, unlike some people.”
“Everything okay here?”
We both turn to find Noah staring at us, eyes narrowed, hands planted on his hips in what I can only assume is meant to be an intimidating gesture. He’s wearing a plaid blazer and bowtie, which pretty much ruins the effect.
Still, I appreciate the brotherly concern.
“We’re good.” I exhale slowly, releasing the last of my anger. “I was just heading back to my seat.”
I have nothing more to say, and I’m not interested in hearing what Cooper has to say to me. He had his chance, and he blew it.
Without another word, I return to my table, forcing myself to take slow, measured steps.
Do. Not. Look. Back.
I hold out until I slide into the booth.
Cooper and Noah are having a heated conversation, probably about me, but I’m out of steam, so I grab my pencil and turn my attention back to the Calc study guide.
Not my circus.
Not anymore.
I stare at the worksheet for what feels like an eternity, but the numbers swim on the page. I’m not even sure what problem I was working on anymore.
This is pointless.
Thanks to Cooper, my concentration is shot. I should probably just pack it in and head back to the apartment where I can avoid all talk of Wildcat football and sexy exes.
I’m shoving my notes inside my bag when Cooper places Starlight Twinkle on the table, along with a copy of The Collegian.
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I fucked up.”
My heart squeezes at his words, but it’s too little, too late.
“I believe we already established that fact.” I zip my bag and slide toward the end of the bench. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
I gesture for him to get out of the way, but the stubborn ass doesn’t move.
“Just give me five minutes.” He nods to the paper, worry creasing his brow. “Have you read it yet?”
“No.” The word is sharp and clipped and I don’t want to be a shrew, so I add, “I’ve been a little busy studying for finals.”
His face relaxes and something like relief flashes in his eyes. “Read it. Please.”
“I really don’t have time—”
