He quickly pastes on a smile to mask the confusion and irritation fleeting through his eyes. “I’ll give it to both of you. Does that address your concern?”
Not even a little, but I give up and leave the office so he can get back to fondling his mustache. If Aspen gets extra credit too, it isn’t a hill worth dying on.
Snob.
Taylor’s condescension annoys me. He has a rep for treating students from less privileged backgrounds with subtle contempt. But seeing it in action is much worse. So what if she doesn’t come from money? I’d trade her upbringing for mine. At least people who want to be her friends aren’t doing it to be friends with her parents.
I go to a nearby café. It’s run by the college, and if it weren’t for the fact that I need to wash down the gross aftertaste of talking with Taylor, I wouldn’t bother. It’s generally too crowded, and the drinks are mediocre and overpriced. The place does a good business only because of its on-campus location.
I walk inside and see Sadie in one of the booths over on the left. She’s with her friends Tanya and Bronte. They chat and thumb through their phones at the same time. Will hovers over them, probably trying to get Sadie to blow him.
Hopefully they’re too self-absorbed to notice me. I head straight to the counter, where a barista in a sage and purple uniform is working alone. A cap with the café logo is pressed low on her head, but I know that lush, tempting body.
Aspen Hughes.
She hands a coffee order to a girl, who dashes out, then comes over. “Hi, what can I get for you?” she says without glancing up.
I expect her to notice me and start fawning. Maybe even apologize for the way she yelled at me on the field because that’s what anybody else would do.
And then she does look up. Her smile fades and the corners of her lips turn down. Weird. Didn’t she find out about me and my parents? Why else would she have put my name on the paper?
She’s pretty even when she’s frowning. And intriguing. It’s the eyes. That cool green gaze that says I’m full of shit and she’s not buying.
I can’t remember a time when a girl wouldn’t go along with more or less whatever I wanted. Maybe she’s a little pissed off because I didn’t tell her about my background, but all it’ll take to get her out of her snit is flashing a smile. Maybe dinner, if I want to be extra nice.
For some weird reason, I want to see her smile. Maybe it’s because I’m curious about what it will do to her eyes. I bet they’ll lighten and sparkle like finely cut emeralds.
Or maybe it’s because she was sensible enough to rebuff Heath. He’s a complete dick. He’s taken nude photos of his girlfriends without their permission. He hasn’t plastered them all over the Internet—his conscience isn’t totally dead—but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.
He reminds me of my dad.
“Didn’t they train you to smile at the customers?” I give her an easy grin.
“Customers.” Her mouth remains flat. “Not pests.”
I laugh. She wants to play a game. Cute, very cute. It’s been a while since a girl tried that. “One grande iced Americano, to go. Now, how about that smile?”
Her mouth curves upward like it’s being pulled by puppet strings while her eyes flash a sincerefuck you. “Anything else?”
Still laughing, I shake my head and put my credit card into the reader. She goes off to deal with the espresso machine. I watch her move, those long limbs like a symphony. She dominates the small space behind the counter, all confident and in charge.
She comes back and places the iced Americano in front of me with more force than necessary, but without spilling a drop. “There. Your coffee.”
She’s about to say, “Take it and fuck off.” Or at least she’s thinking it really hard. But I want my curiosity satisfied first. “Why did you put my name on the paper?”
She blinks slowly, then looks at me like I’m weird. “Because Professor Taylor expected it.”
“So? I told you to leave me out of it.”
“Hate to shake you up here, but sometimes a girl might not do what you tell her. In this case, cooperation and teamwork are part of the grade. If I’d only putmyname on it, I wouldn’t have gotten an A+.” Her fake smile grows even faker. “Trust me, I didn’t do it out of love for you.”
I take a sip of my Americano. It’s quite good. Must be the girl, because the one I had last year tasted watered down. But the entire time she’s looking at me like I’m unworthy. Apparently she really has no clue about my background. “You can’t be afraid to bloody your knuckles if you want to knock the other guy out.”
She rolls her eyes. “Listen, I don’t care if you got an A+ you didn’t earn, as long as it doesn’t take anything from me. I know this is going to be news, but you’re really not that important. So. You’re welcome.” She flutters her eyelashes at me, while her gaze is saying,Now get the fuck outta here, asshole.
I stare at her for a moment, trying to fathom how her mind works. In my experience, cutting off your nose to spite your face is, in fact, vastly desirable. It’s a matter of principle. Showing the other guy that you aren’t anybody to mess with. I’ve internalized this since I was old enough to understand what was going on around me. Mom would cut off her own arm if she could shove it up the other person’s ass.
But Aspen isn’t like that. I want to get to know her and figure out what makes her tick. Or if she’s hiding some nefarious plot to screw me over later.
