“I brought donuts,” he says, holding up the box. “You’re welcome.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell him to turn around and leave. But then my stomach growls.
Loudly. I snap my mouth shut.
Troy’s grin widens.
“Oh,” he says. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
I cross my arms. “Irrelevant.”
“Nope. Very relevant. You’re starving, I’m a hero—this is aperfectsituation for you. And I’m willing to offer free labor.”
I hate that he’s right, I am freakin’ starving.
I snatch the box from his hands, opening it up to find a full dozen, still warm.
I hesitate for exactly three seconds before pulling out a chocolate one.
Troy watches me, clearly smug.
“You know,” he says, leaning against the counter, “I knew you liked these.”
I pause mid-bite. “How the hell would you know that?”
“Saw you every night at camp,” he says easily. “You’d always grab a donut for dessert. And if they ran out, you’d look so disappointed.”
I stare at him.
“You—” I shake my head. “You remembered that?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “You’re kind of dramatic, Greer. It was funny.”
I huff. “Whatever. Thanks for the donuts. So, what do you want? You can go back to the party if you want.”
“Or,” he says, grinning, “we could talk about camp.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Because we didn’t like each other,” he says, grabbing a donut for himself. “You were mean, and I was better than you at kayaking. Truce?”
I snort. “No.”
Troy gasps, “No? Wow. Shocking. And here I thought we were bonding.”
“We are not bonding.”
“I think we are. I think we may actually be into the realm of friendship now.”
“We absolutely are not, and also, you were a dick to me at camp.”
“You critiqued everything I did,” he argues, taking a bite of his donut. “Everything my team did, actually.”
“Because you were brutes,” I counter. “Our team was better but you guys cheated.”
Troy laughs. “No, Greer. We were just stronger.”
“You cheated.”
