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Fiona quickly hands him some napkins from the nearby dispenser, her green eyes wide.
I frown. “You don’t have to be rude,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “It was clearly an accident.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I fight to swallow the sudden unexpected rush of nerves rippling through my body. My heart is hammering so hard that I’m sure he can hear it. He snatches the napkins from Fiona and wipes coffee from his skin, sneering at me the entire time.
The nerve of this guy. As if I set out to ruin his day when he clearly just wants to ruin every experience I have at this damn university.
“I said I was sorry,” I fume.
“Of course you are,” he says coldly, shoving the used napkins into Fiona’s face, which just ignites my anger further. “Just like you’re sorry you eavesdropped on my private conversation about your insignificance in my life.”
“Wrong.” I huff. “I’m not sorry about that at all now that I know what a stuck-up rich boy you are. But I am sorry I met you.”
“Burn,” Fiona whispers.
Lincoln glances at her darkly before those stupid beautiful eyes return to mine. We glower at each other, standing so close together that I can feel his minty breath brushing across my cheeks. Finally, Lincoln concedes, pushing roughly past me and walking out the door into the downpour. My shoulder tingles where our bodies touched.
I stare after him. “Well, isn’t he a treat?”
Fiona snorts with laughter. “A delicious treat. I want to eat and swallow him whole.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.
I giggle. “God, you’re so crude.” I walk up to the counter to browse the menu.
“Like you weren’t thinking the same thing while you eye-fucked him,” Fiona says with a smirk.
“I definitelydid noteye-fuck him,” I protest, but my face flushes.
I certainly don’t like him, but she’s right—he’s easy on the eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
LINCOLN
Irun to the red Mustang and throw open the door, jumping inside before I get too wet.
When the fuck did it start raining like this?
Trey glances over at me from the driver’s side and does a double take. “The fuck happened to you?” he asks, noting my grim expression and then looking down at my stained sleeve.
“That chick from the bonfire ran into me,” I snap.
“Charlie Bennett? The hot brunette?”
“Was she hot though?”Yes, unfortunately.“Not really my type.”
Trey chuckles. “I mean, whoisyour type? You’ve never really been picky.” He puts on his blinker and pulls into traffic.
I grind my teeth instead of arguing with him. I haven’t really been interested in anyone for a long time, so it seems like I’m indiscriminate. I use girls. I’m not really proud of it, but I also have needs that I let consume me because I want to feel something—anything—even shame and disgust with myself.
Until yesterday.
Every muscle in my body tensed when I saw her again, as if bracing for impact. I know who she is, but I don’t think she recognized me, which just enraged me further.
This is my school, and she shouldn’t be here. I left her behind when I came here.
But then our eyes locked, and she stared at me with a quiet intensity that made my heart beat again for the first time sincethatnight. She looked confused, and then just as angry as I was. She was fire, and with one heated look, I was burning alive.
After we first locked eyes, I watched her off and on throughout the night, obsessing over her long chestnut hair that swayed over her back, her skinny jeans that hugged her tight ass and curves in all the right places, and her full lips that often fell into a distrustful pout when she caught me staring.
