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“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, not missing the amused smile that slides across Atlas’s face.
“Pretty sure the same thing you are.” He chuckles. “What are the odds that we would end up in the same English class?” he wonders aloud.
“Apparently pretty good, considering you’re sitting next to me. Honestly, I’m surprised to see you in a classroom at all.”
“Are you now? And why is that?” He drops his MacBook on his desk and flips it open.
“I don’t know. Don’t guys like you usually pay someone to do your work while you’re off getting drunk or laid, eventually graduating with a bullshit degree you can’t use?”
“Guys like me?” He arches a brow.
“Yeah, you know, people who aren’t very smart and don’t value a real education,” I whisper condescendingly.
“What? You think because I’m not an ugly duckling like you that I can’t possibly have a brain?” He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You really shouldn’t judge people by the way they look, B.”
“Donotcall me that,” I growl under my breath, biting back the tears that sting my throat at his insult.
Am I ugly? I don’t think so. Sure, I’m no Victoria’s Secret model. But I’m not the worst looking woman to ever walk the earth. I’m small, maybe a little plain, but ugly?
“Why?”
His smile makes me want to rear back and punch him in his stupid face.
“Because my name is Barlow,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You know,” he leans back in his seat, regarding me for a moment, “you really are so easy to rile. What is it about me that gets under your skin so much? Is it because you know I’d never give you the time of day?”
“Let’s not pretend like it’syouwho wouldn’t givemethe time of day. I wouldn’t want you if I had to choose between dating you or putting a bullet in my skull.”
Okay, so that’s a little dramatic but what can I say, I’ve always had a flare for getting my point across.
“So you say, but I’d bet money that your little panties get soaked every time you see me walk into a room.” His gaze dips seductively downward before coming back to my face.
“You wish.” But honestly, I’m a little flustered by his brazen words. He’s implied things like that before, but never so crassly said it outright. I’m a little taken aback.
“No, little B, I think it’s you that wishes.” He leans closer, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. I try to keep my eyes locked on his, but before I can stop them, they’ve dipped down to watch the action. “That’s what I thought.” A triumphant smile takes over his face.
I open my mouth to adamantly dispute anything he might be thinking, but before I have a chance to get one word out, the professor announces his arrival by flipping the lights twice before he begins to speak.
As difficult as it is for me to bite my tongue, because it’s definitely not in my nature to do so, I somehow manage to clamp it down and turn my attention forward. He may think he’s bested me, but Atlas Keaton should know me better than that by now. When it comes to a battle of words and wills, I always win.
