Page 22 of You Were Never Not Mine

Swallowing hard, I’m fully prepared to blast this ingrate and tell him to go straight to hell. That she belongs to me. But that’s bullshit and we both know it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

I spit the words out, one after the other, and he blinks with every single one. Dumbass. “Right. Cool. I was hoping you would say that.”

My hands curl into fists as if I have no control over them. “Are you two on a—date?”

“She’s in my English class and yeah. I asked her to coffee and she said yes.” He rubs his hands together, that stupid smile still on his face. “I’ve been trying to catch her attention since the first day of school and finally today, she noticed me.”

Hmm. Her timing is questionable.

“Tim! Your order is ready!” the barista screams, making me wince. Jesus, it’s so loud in this establishment.

“Hey, I gotta go but it was great seeing you.” Tim—not Troy or Ty—grabs my hand without my permission and pumps it twice in the most overenthusiastic shake I’ve ever been given. “Wish me luck that I don’t blow this.”

Before I can wish him luck, which I would never do because I want him to fail spectacularly, he strides away and grabs the two drinks and a pastry bag from the barista, smiling and winking at her as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. I stand there and watch him head over to the table where Sinclair is sitting. Watch her tilt her head back when he pauses beside her and sets a cup on the table in front of her, and how she smiles at him.

My heart fucking pangs and I rub at my chest absently, surprised that the vital organ still exists.

Tim settles into the chair across from her and gleefully tears into the paper bag, pulling out a massive Danish that is cherry-filled and looks messy.

I would never eat anything like that and from the faintly disgusted look on Sinclair’s face, I’m thinking she never would either. That gives me the slightest hint of satisfaction.

She pushes her chair back and stands and I freeze, my gaze tracking her every movement as she approaches the counterand grabs some extra napkins and a plastic knife, along with a couple of forks. The moment she turns away from the counter, she spots me.

Sin doesn’t look happy to see me either.

I brace myself as she marches right up to me, her body practically vibrating with defiance and anger. I don’t even flinch when she thrusts her index finger in my face, fully prepared for her wrath, and holy shit, is that my dick twitching?

A pissed-off Sinclair is a hot Sinclair, apparently.

“Are youstalkingme?” Her accusatory tone is sexy as fuck.

“No.” I scoff like what she’s suggesting is absurd. “I don’t stalk anyone, least of all you.”

“Then why are you in this coffee shop?”

“Why areyouin this coffee shop? Everyone comes here. I’m in here all the time.” The lie spills smoothly from my lips.

She pauses, leaning back a little as if she needs to assess me. “You are?”

“Yes.” I bend down and lean in close, my face in hers. “And Ineversee you. So who are you to tell me that I’m stalking you? Maybe you’re stalking me.”

Her mouth twists into a little pout that is positively delectable just before she exhales loudly. “Stay away from me or I might sic my new boyfriend on you.”

I chuckle. “Tim? He’s about as intimidating as a puppy. You sic him on me and he’ll end up licking my face, not biting my ass.”

An aggravated noise leaves her and she turns on her heel, leaving me where I stand so she can go rejoin her “new boyfriend.”

Please. That’s never going to happen. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Chapter Eleven

SINCLAIR

An entire blissful week passes without a single August Lancaster sighting and I feel like I can finally breathe again. And sleep again too because I’m tired of dreaming about him every single night. He doesn’t haunt my thoughts throughout the day as much as he used to—thank goodness—and I actually dreamed of giving a presentation in front of my ethics class in just my underwear last night. Instead of the usual dream consisting of August going down on me with his hot tongue and sucking lips, only to wake up with my fingers in my panties yet again.

I call that progress.

Maybe he got the hint when I called him a stalker?

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