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“Rough morning?” a dee
p, familiar voice questions from my right.
Flinching, I glance over my shoulder. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey,” Owen greets me.
“How can I help you?”
He smiles. “I was just thinking about something.”
“Get to the point, Owen.”
“You know in the fourth Harry Potter––”
“It’s titled Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” I correct him, though I have no idea why I’m jumping down his throat.
Slow your roll, Say.
“Oookay….” He grabs the back of his neck and squeezes the tight muscles while simultaneously flexing the cord of muscles in his forearm. I blink away the mouth-watering image, angry it’s already committed itself to memory.
Sexy bastard.
“Well, I was just thinking about the winter ball,” he continues, “and how Hermoine gets a little pissed at Ron because he doesn’t ask her.”
Forgetting about my crappy cup of coffee, I fold my arms and huff out, “What’s your point?”
The bastard knows me way too well to be put off by my stupid temper tantrum and opens the fridge door next to the counter before retrieving the stupid creamer I’m obsessed with. His stupidly attractive smirk grates on my stupidly overactive nerves as he sets it next to my stupid mug.
Everything is just so…stupid.
I ignore it but hold his gaze, daring him to say the wrong thing and piss me off even more.
“I’m wondering if you’d like to be my date to the Boo Bash next week.”
I scowl. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it just…isn’t.”
He sighs. “I thought we’d moved past this, Say.”
“I thought so, too, but the moment we kissed, you just fell off the face of the planet, and––”
My mouth snaps shut as I force myself to keep any more word vomit from tumbling out of me.
“Wait.” His brows furrow. “Are you mad at me for not calling you this weekend?”
I glare back at him before fussing with my stupid coffee and creamer.
His laugh doesn’t hold any humor in it before he leans his hip against the counter, forcing himself into view.
“I was trying to give you space and be patient in hopes of not scaring you off. Apparently, it had the opposite effect,” he adds under his breath. “I wanted to call you, Say.”
Digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands, I stay silent but hold his gaze.
“Do you believe me?” he prods.
