I threw my head back against the chair. “The level of arrogance, it’s Olympic.”
“Good thing you know an Olympian,” she muttered under her breath, then nearly choked on her own laugh.
I glared. “Talon jokes are strictly forbidden during my rage spirals.”
“Noted.”
I exhaled sharply, pushing my hair out of my face. “And then—then—he said I ‘wouldn’t understand real responsibility.’ Like I just float through the world in a bubble made of designer labels.”
Livvi tilted her head. “Okay, and how much of that is him being a jerk versus you maybe projecting a tiny bit?”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I’m just saying.” She gestured her hands around the room like that could explain it. “Ledger doesn’t look at you the way people look at someone they don’t respect.”
I made a face. “He looks at me like someone he wants to throw into a volcano.” I folded my arms and gave a dramatic pout that I knew was childish, but I didn’t care. “I hate him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No,” she said softly, “you just don’t understand each other.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but my brain suppliedan image of Ledger earlier tonight, jaw tight, eyes sharp, something simmering under the surface.
For a second, he’d looked almost … human.
And annoyingly—unjustly—good-looking in that sharp, intense way that made it hard to stay properly irritated.
I shook the thought away. “Anyway, I’m done thinking about him.”
Livvi gave me a look that saidsure,but mercifully didn’t say it aloud.
But of course, telling myself not to think about Ledger meant my brain immediately pulled up a highlight reel titled The Many Times Ledger Hayes Ruined My Life.
And the opening scene?
Freshman year.
Intro to Statistics. Eight a.m. With Professor Doyle, who graded like she was personally offended by your existence.
I’d walked in early, determined, organized, with highlighters in color order, hair curled, outfit cute but smart. I wanted to make a good impression. Start strong.
Then Ledger Hayes swaggered in.
Wet hair.
Swim team hoodie.
Energy drink in hand.
Smirk locked and loaded.
He took one look at the seating chart, saw I’d been assigned next to him and groaned.
Loudly. Dramatically. As if I were a root canal.
“Wow,” he’d said, dropping into the chair. “This semester’s off to a great start.”
