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“No,” I mumble immediately.
Why is that even a question?
Bree rolls her eyes. “Of course, you haven’t. You’re the golden boy.”
Intrigue finds its way into my system, tingling in my veins as curiosity takes over.
“Have you?” I inquire with a raised brow.
She limits herself to shrug.
Fuck, she’s a thief too?Who the hell is this girl?
“I have a brother, Stanley. I’ve obviously stolen things from him,” she clarifies, stopping my wild thoughts from wandering to random and dangerous places.
Somehow, that fixes it a little and explains why she’s familiar with this whole business while I’m about to have an existential crisis.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have any siblings,” I mutter with annoyance.
Bree barely reacts, her expression unbothered by the information.
“You don’t say. Another point to yourgolden boyprofile.”
There’s a touch of irritation blooming in my chest. I’ve never understood why Bree keeps assuming things about me. She doesn’t know me or how my life is. I’m far from being that perfect golden boy that she thinks I am. If Bree only knew the truth, she would back off. But I won’t lose time correcting her.
“Could you stop assuming things about me?” I ask.
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“If you stop taking the easy way out. Cheating on tests will not make you pass your classes.”
Is she ever going to let that go? We’re on a whole different topic, and she’s still in that like a broken record.
“Not if I keep copying from you,” I spit back, forcing a smile to spite her.
She gasps in a fake way, pretending that she’s affected by my words.
“That was a little offensive.”
“Like everything you say about me. We’re even,” I settle with a bitter tone.
Bree crosses her arms, pursing her lips together.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,”she insists, wanting to have the last word.
However, she’s far from having it. Now that we’re talking and we’re going over the topic, I can’t help but wonder why she despises me so much. I can recall that she looked at me this way before I even managed to utter a word at the party. We’ve never talked before this. A week ago, we were strangers.
I’m not a bad guy. I know that, but it bothers me that she doesn’t consider getting to know me before forming an opinion.
“Why don’t you like me?” The question bursts out before I can think twice.
This is probably not the right moment, but it’s too late to take it back. Bree sighs, her eyes getting lost for a second before she makes a face.
“Because I’ve seen a lot of guys like you. Trust me,” she says, and I disagree with her. “And I don’t like them. Taking the easy way out leads to nowhere.”
