AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not only is she still wearing the stupid Fleetwood Mac shirt, but it looks like a bird could nest in the bun on her head, her red hair falling from it in all different directions. Her brown eyes burn into me, and I swear even the freckles on her nose look angry.
“What?” I whisper with a shrug. “I overslept.”
Her eyes narrow. “I wonder why,” she snaps before facing the front of the room. Her hand grips the front corner of her notebook, unintentionally bending the pages back, her leg bouncing as she listens to the professor’s policy on late work.
My lips twitch into what might be a smile. “Hey,” I say, just to get a reaction out of her.
She ignores me, but her cheeks flare.
“Hey,” I whisper a second time, and her head snaps my way faster than a jump-scare.
Trying to hide my amusement, I ask, “Can I borrow a pen?”
The girl stares at me, her eyebrows furrowing like she can’t tell if I’m serious.
“No.”
Before I have the chance to say anything, she’s focused on the professor again. I know her clipped answers are in response to last night, and the corner of my mouth quirks. This girl can’t stand me, and I don’t know if I should find it funny or be offended.
Either way, it’s going to be a long year.
3
margot
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I force my focus back on the professor. She’s talking about the final exam? Maybe? My pen silently taps against the notebook in front of me because I can’t believe this guy has the audacity to say he overslept.
Do you know who else overslept?
Me.
What about the fact that I barely had time to put on pants this morning before running out the door? Whose fault is it?
His.
If he didn’t have me up all night listening to him play out his Guitar Hero dreams, I would have gone to bed on time. And if I would have gone to bed on time, there’s a 99.9% chance I would have woken up on time.
I could have showered.
And stopped for coffee.
It could have been a great morning, but instead, I’m left wearing the shirt I slept in, and I broke a sweat running to get here. So, he’ll just have to deal with the fact that I’m severely under-caffeinated and not in the mood to empathize with him.
“Relax, Red,” he mutters, making me look at him.
“What?” I say in a sharp whisper, and as I wait for his response, I’m hit with the infuriating realization that, of course, he’s hot.
He’s hot in this annoyingly underrated way. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself—like he doesn’t care. Or maybe it’s the way his eyes make me feel like he can see too much of me. Maybe it’s the subtle smirk—or the way his hair somehow looks messy and styled all at once.
Or maybe I’ve hit a new level of tired.
Either way, it’s safe to say my anger left me partially blind last night because I don’t remember him looking like that.
His gaze moves to the notebook in my hands, pulling me from my intrusive thoughts. I look down to find I’m squeezing the corner so tightly I’m bending it in half. Quickly releasing it, I do my best to smooth it down, but I know it will never lie flat again.
Just another thing this guy has ruined.
“What’s got you so worked up?” he asks with a lift of his annoyingly perfect lips.
