“And you didn't correct them,” she cuts in. “You just stood there accepting congratulations while I was still sweaty from crawling around the mechanical room.”
“Come on, Greer. I didn't think it was that big of a deal?—”
“Of course, you didn't.” She laughs, short and sharp. “You were even in thecamp newsletterfor it. My work, your face.”
The newsletter? Who the hell even reads that thing? Andis this seriously what she’s so pissed about? Some minor misunderstanding months ago.
“I never said I fixed it.” I frown. “I didn't even know about the newsletter. Nobody reads those.”
“Right.” She clearly doesn't believe me. “Must be nice being you, Hawkins. Getting credit for things you don't even remember doing.”
I'm not sure why this matters so much to her. It was just a stupid AC unit.
“Lighten up, Mittens,” I say, trying to defuse the tension. “It wasn't personal.”
Her expression hardens at the nickname—the one I gave her after seeing those ridiculous protective gloves she'd been wearing while working on the unit. I thought it was kind of cute at the time but now I’m realizing how much it pisses her off. And that kinda makes me want to use it more.
“That's the problem with guys like you, Hawkins.” She steps closer, voice low. “Nothing ever is personal because nothing ever needs to be. You haveno ideawhat it's like to work twice as hard and still be invisible.”
I open my mouth to argue, but something in her eyes stops me. This isn't just anger. This is... hurt.
Before I can figure out what to say, she turns and disappears into the crowd.
I stand there, confused and slightly buzzed, wondering why the hell she cares so much about an AC unit and a stupid camp newsletter nobody reads.
And for some reason, I suddenly feel like I’ve missed something important. She doesn’t look back. I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. What the hell just happened? I was supposed to be annoying her. Teasing her. Getting under her skin. Not... completely thrown off my game. And yet, here I am. Standing here like an idiot, watching her walk away—all long legs and that perfect ass and that stupidvanilla-leather perfume she probably doesn’t even know drives me insane. Thinking about the fact that she wants a good fuck tonight. And that it will never be me. Because she hates me—for something I didn’t even do, how the hell can I help it if people want to thank me?
And now, she’s maybe giving that opportunity to Jared.
Jared.
Jared, who “fucks like a rabbit,” according to the rumor mill. Fast, messy, zero finesse. Exactly not what she needs.
Fucking hell.
I grab my beer and finish what’s left in one long, bitter gulp.
I should be focused right nowbecause the girl in front of me? Ridiculously hot.
Tan skin, long legs, toned from hours of volleyball practice—she’s exactly the kind of girl I should be taking home tonight. And I almost do.
We’re standing by the stairs, her fingers trailing up my arm, her lips inches from mine as she laughs at something I said.
I should be closing the deal and paying attention to her. I know how to win her over, exactly what she wants, but instead…
Instead—
My eyes flick toward the other side of the room.
And just like that, I forget all about volleyball girl.
Because Delilah is talking to Jared.
Fucking Jared.I told her anyone but him.
My grip on my beer tightens. I don’t know why I feel so protective over her. We spent all summer bickering with one another; she started it by being sassy with me for absolutelyno reason, and I discovered she was really fun to wind up. But I want to protect her, make sure she’s ok. And Jared is certainly not the guy for her.
Jared is leaning in, his hand braced against the wall next to her head. His stupid, smug grin is in full force, the one he uses when he thinks he’s winning.
