“Does it matter?”
“Apparently not,” I grumble. “Why bother helping at the tutoring center if you’re not going to help people?”
“That’s not fair.” I hate how indignant her tone sounds. Like I’m the one causing problems.
“So you’re going to help me then?”
Angie shakes her head, clearly not comfortable with this conversation either. “Look, I can have someone help you with Professor Smith’s class, but I’ll ask around to find someone for astronomy.”
I stare at her, trying to figure out if she’ll change her mind. But it doesn’t seem like she will. I don’t know why I came here.
“Don’t bother. I’ll figure something out.”
“Troy, wait.”
I don’t turn back, hand held steady on the door. “This was a mistake. I don’t want your help.”
And with that, I leave.
Not quite sure what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.
Chapter Four
ANGIE
Why can’t this year be easy? It’s my senior year. I want it to be simple. No drama, nothing.
And then Troy has to come walking into the tutoring center today and throw me off my game. He turned me into a blubbering idiot.
I don’t know how I put more than two sentences together. All I know is I told him I couldn’t help and that was it.
Except the look on his face is one I can’t forget.
Dejected. Hurt. Embarrassed.
Stop stewing, Angie. It’s not going to help anyone.
Parking my car, I grab my purse and head into the bar to meet Harper.
It’s one of the newer bars on campus. Brick walls are filled with planters that overflow with greenery. Old chandeliers hang throughout the small bar. Mismatched tables and chairs fill the space. A patio lines one wall that opens up to the warm night.
Spotting Harper, she’s at our usual hightop table beyond the bar.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late. My lecture ran late after tutoring this afternoon.”
“It’s fine.” Harper waves me off as I slide onto a stool beside her. “I ordered you a beer.”
“Thanks.” I grab the icy glass in front of me and drink a healthy swallow. “It was a long day.”
“Tutoring not going well?”
I shake my head, setting the glass down. “You’ll never guess who came in today.”
“Who?” Harper pops one of the pretzels on the table in front of us.
“Troy Hollins.”
“Seriously?” Her jaw drops. “Why’d he come in?”
