“I can be a hot head.”
“You think?” I blurted out, shaking my head. “Shit. I'm sorry.” I held up my hands. “I won't interrupt again.”
His eyes danced with humor, the earlier anger in them long gone. “You're right. I am a hot head more times than not. I am sorry for reacting poorly. It bothers me you didn't think to ask or tell me about your classes. From now on, unless it's a game day, you can leave around three, if you need to. Is that something we can agree on?”
I nodded, pressing my lips together, so I didn't say anything rude or out of line. He wet his bottom lip, continuing. “Good. That's settled then. Now, let's talk about last weekend.”
“I would prefer not ever.” I closed my eyes, squirming. “Not my best weekend, I'll say that.”
“The rest of your weekend bad, too? I'm sorry I haven't been around much this week. I'll admit I kept my distance.” He frowned.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. I might've noticed that, but I know it's my fault. I'm sorry—”
“Don't apologize, Grace. You spoke your mind. I like that about you. It's refreshing.” He grinned sheepishly. “I take a long time to apologize. I'm working on it.”
“Well, I won't stop you if you want to apologize. I can always use a nice groveling,” I joked, the tension leaving the table.
He smiled and took a slow sip of his coffee.
“Grace, I am sorry that you overheard a conversation between a bunch of assholes. To clear the air, you are not too young or too high maintenance. You are more mature than most people my age, and you get along with everyone you meet. I have a hard time letting people in, and I try to push people away.”
I nodded, appreciating his words. “Thank you for the honesty, and everything is good. Clear air and all that.”
He grinned, the one that changed his face. “You're real laid back about this.”
“Brock, we get along more or less. Excuse my frankness, but you're a dreamboat, and I was having a moment of being a girl and felt hurt. But trust me, I'm done worrying about men for at least three months.”
His eyes widened, my words having a different meaning. I held up one hand, shaking my finger at him. “No. No. Not that, I like men. I really like men, but I'm done letting them affect my mood. Does that make sense?”
“Is this because of what you heard me say?” he asked once he wiped the smirk off his face, a frown replacing it.
“No. My date that night was like a two out of ten.” I ran my hand through my hair, knowing I looked dramatic but not caring. “It was cringe-worthy at best.”
“Damn. At least it wasn't a one?” he said, looking pleased with his comeback. I flipped him the middle finger, causing him to bark out laughing.
“It wasn't a damn one because he bought the meal even though he insulted me at every chance.” I made a face of disgust then took another sip of my coffee. “I deleted that awful profile. Never again.”
“He insulted you? I don't like that.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned over the table.
“Calm down, Rambo. I will never see that ass weasel again.” I laughed, thinking about the entire date. “Have you ever seenThe Office?”
“Of course,” he scoffed, his eye roll looking cute as hell in his big glasses.
“Well, you know how Jim Halpert always looks at the camera and makes that face of defeat and shock when something crazy happens? That was me, the entire two hours. I looked off into the distance, like someone set me up with this guy as a joke.”
Brock laughed, his face transforming into pure beauty when he smiled. “I can picture you doing that.”
“Yeah, it was like this.” Then, I looked off toward the bathroom and pressed my lips together. I must've done it well because he laughed again, harder this time. “Make me feel better. Tell me a crazy date story.”
“Besides the shit you pulled with Anna?” he asked with a raised voice, one eyebrow up and all. He looked like a detective.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He shrugged me off and frowned. “I don't date a lot. But, once a girl tried taking pictures of me when I was sleeping.”
“Ew. Boundaries. Some people don't have them.” I would die if someone did that. I'd punch them and burn their phone. I was so not part of this sexting generation.
“Yeah. She didn't.” He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag before sipping his coffee again. “If this is any consolation, when men insult women, it's usually because they are intimidated. And if a guy is intimidated by you, then screw them. You don't need someone like that.”
