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“And mine isn’t?” I wait until he’s turned back toward me to say.
“I never said that.”
I can’t look at his face, so I stare at the spot just above his collarbone where there’s a singular gold stripe across his red Trojans football T-shirt.
“You didn’t have to.” I’m more curt than I normally would be, the events of last night and the fake news apparently being spread across campus putting me more on edge than usual.
“You really don’t like me, do you?”
I finally meet his eyes and when I do, I find not an ounce of irritation behind them. In fact, he seems more amused than anything.
“You’re perceptive.” I swallow hard, hoping I seem even a fraction as tough as I’m trying to put on.
“Is there a reason you don’t like me?” He cocks his head to the side, a chunk of blond hair falling across his forehead in a way that almost makes me want to reach up and push it away.
Almost...
“Perhaps I gave you too much credit with my previous comment.”
There, that’ll show him... I give myself a mental pat on the back for not fumbling over my words the way I usually do when speaking to basically any guy, let alone Archer freaking Copeland.
“Well, you don’t have to like me, but you do have to work with me.” He shoves his hands into the front of his black track pants, rocking back slightly on his heels.
“You made sure of that,” I grumble under my breath.
“Look, your time is valuable, and so is mine. So how about we take a few minutes to work out scheduling and then we can get on about our day, yeah?”
I want to continue to be difficult. I want to pout and stomp and tell him I hate him for making me do this with him, but I don’t do any of those things, mainly because I know it wouldn’t do me any good, and I’d just end up looking even more pathetic than I probably already do.
“Fine.”
“Where are you going?” He pivots to take the space at my side as I begin walking again.
“The Coffee Shop.”
“What coffee shop?”
“TheCoffee Shop,” I say again. “That’s the name of it. If you want to figure out scheduling, you can at least let me get some caffeine in my system in the process.” I glance up at the side of his face, for a brief moment allowing myself to soak in the beauty of his profile—his chiseled jaw, the definition of his cheekbones, the perfect arch of his nose—before quickly looking away. “Have you never been to The Coffee Shop?” I barely get the words out before my voice gives way.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Of course you don’t. Let me guess, you live on Gatorade and pre and post-workout shakes.”
“Close, but not exactly. I mean, yeah, I’ll drink Gatorade, but I don’t mess around with all the supplements and shit. Truthfully, I prefer water over anything and drink primarily that all day, every day.”
“That’s boring.”
“Maybe, but it’s important that I keep myself in peak physical form, and water is the best thing for the body.”
“Refer to my previous statement... Boring.”
“Okay, so what do you like to drink?”
“Coffee.” I resist the urge to sayduh, only entertaining this conversation because it’s better than walking in awkward silence.
“Besides coffee?”
I don’t miss the smile in his voice, and I try like hell not to let it chip away at the armor I’m working extremely hard to hold in place.
