The barista offers me their newest assortment of Magic Morsels. My heart lurches in my chest. Sure enough, my grandma’s face is on a big poster by the pile of baked goods. Damn. This was one of the last spots Gigi’s franchise hadn’t touched. Paranoia creeps into my bones again, and I mumble that I’ll pass before making my usual order along with Brexley’s coffee.
Soon, I’m cradling my cup of caffeine. I bring my face close to the steaming wide brim mug and inhale deeply. This mocha, loaded with extra espresso shots, is going to save my life today.
Exhaustion, stress, and horniness makes me a bit dramatic.
“You look like you are going to start licking from that thing like a cat with a bowl of cream,” Brexley says, having already chugged half a mug of black coffee. He spins the ring around his forefinger.
I glare up at him. Goddammit why did that sound so sexual? It only pisses me off more.
“Do you come with a muzzle, or do I need to buy one?”
“Not a morning person, are we?” he taunts.
I position my middle finger on my cup especially for him. He smirks, but his eyes are still dull and tired. He’s got a case of messy bedhead and his clothes are rumpled, but it doesn’t detract from his appeal one bit. Damn him.
I’m back in trash troll mode, but I did manage to wash my face and brush my teeth. My campus hoodie is so big, I consider disappearing right into it, like a turtle. Then I’ll resurface in two or three days.
The hot, chocolatey liquid hits my lips and I close my eyes and let out an involuntary moan. What I actually want to do is let out a sob of relief.
A growl escapes Brexley. But when I open my eyes, he is chugging the rest of his coffee and looking anywhere but at me.
Glancing at the time on my laptop, I note it’s already eleven AM. Panic wraps around my throat. My study time is siphoning away like sand in a sieve.
I pull out my laptop and get to work. Dr. Langley’s comments have lodged themselves in my guts like hard marbles. Ihaveto do better. I just need some dedicated study time.
My phone vibrates on the table, a text. I snatch it up, hoping against hope it’s Gigi. My heart sinks into my stomach as I set it down. It vibrates again. I don’t bother picking it up this time, moving my attention back to my laptop.
The phone continues to buzz as text after text comes in. Finally, Brexley picks it up and hands it to me. “Aren’t you going to answer?”
I take it from him, careful not to touch his fingers. With a glance, I confirm it’s still not Gigi. “It’s my friends,” I say.
“Has something so horrible befallen them that they need to text you every point five seconds?” His irritation is back in full force.
“No,” I say, “I have.”
His brows dip as he scowls, confused.
“You.Youare the horrible thing that has befallen me. They want to know about you,” I say in an accusing tone.
Brexley’s face smooths as he leans back in his chair. “What are you going to tell them?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my tone clipped as I tap two fingers on the back of the phone. “That’s why I’m not responding.”
“You could tell them I’m your new study partner,” he grins, but it comes out more like he’s baring his teeth.
The look I shoot him could freeze water.
“They don’t know who you are, do they?” he asks, propping an elbow on the table.
My crankiness jacks up another level. “No, and I don’t plan on telling them. I worked really hard to cobble this little life together, and I’m not going to let some weird magic shit mess that up.”
“So you’re prejudiced against magic because you don’t have any?” He toys with his mug, his tone indicating he already assumes it’s true.
I wrinkle my nose. The way he says it makes me sound like a petty brat.
My laptop shuts with a click. “No, I’m prejudiced against magic because I hate the hierarchy bullshit it creates. The way mages think they are better than everyone else. The way everyone is judged by their ability and not their character.”
“Sweetheart, that’s the whole world you are describing,” he says drolly.
