Page 21 of Frozen Hearts
I can’t afford forLoganto mean anything.
“It’s fine,” I respond awkwardly, voice catching. I’m unable to meet his eyes as I fiddle needlessly with the pages sitting on the table in front of me. The air surrounding us grows uncomfortable, and unable to stand the silence, I say, “We, uh, should start on the material from last week.”
“Right,” he agrees with a nod, thankfully willing to move past that kiss. The one still causing my lips to buzz as I suck them between my teeth and try to focus on my notes on Bayesian statistics.
* * *
Walking across campus, the trees are a beautiful burnt orange and yellow, leaves falling into piles on the ground as they fight against the upcoming winter. The air is crisp, and I burrow deeper into my coat as I stuff my hands in my pockets and pick up my pace, keen to get a warm drink into me.
As I pass by, I glance longingly at the coffee cart, noting the long line of people waiting for their drinks. I’ve heard the other students rant and rave about their coffee. I’ve never tried it myself, butdamndoes it always smell good when I walk by. Like freshly baked croissants and coffee that hasn’t been stewed in a pot all day.Oh, what I’d give for even a taste.
Knowing that I can’t afford it, I reluctantly tear my gaze away and, instead, stride through the double doors into Halston’s dining hall. As much as I’dlovea pumpkin spice latte, it would be stupid to waste my hard-earned money on it when the coffee here is free.
The dining hall is mostly empty at this time of day. It’s late afternoon on a Friday, and most students are either done for the week or close enough that they’re powering through the last of their work so they can begin their weekends.
Grabbing the pot of black coffee, I pour it into a large to-go cup and add a decent amount of creamer before popping on a plastic lid. I only have one class left this week, but I’m working tonight, and knowing I’ll be on my feet until the early hours of the morning, I am in desperate need of as much caffeine as I can get my hands on.
Bringing the steaming cup to my lips, I inhale, pretending I smell the fragrant notes of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. Despite the bitter taste, which is nothing like a pumpkin spice latte, I smile against the rim of the cup, simply happy to be getting my caffeine fix.
Sometimes, it’s the simple pleasures in life, ya know?
Croissants and gourmet coffee sound great, but as long as I have caffeine, I’ll be a happy girl.
Besides, perhaps I could treat myself to one of the fancy coffees from the cart outside at the end of the month if I don’t fall behind on any of my schoolwork. That seems like a reasonable reward for keeping up with my studies and doing well in my classes.
I’m still dreaming about that coffee as I push open the dining hall door and step outside into the cold October afternoon. With my coffee securely held in one hand, I use my other to hitch my bag higher onto my shoulder as I turn the corner…
…and collide with a solid mass.
“Oomph.”
The wind is knocked out of me as I ricochet off a granite chest. Even beneath the leather jacket, I can feel the hard planes of the guy’s pecs.Seriously, he should come with a warning sign—or a blaring alarm.
Blinking, I pull my eyes up over his chest, along the thick cords of the muscles in his neck, to a dusting of dark stubble. His jaw tics, and as I lift my gaze to meet ice-blue eyes, my grip loosens on my coffee cup.
Just my fucking luck!
Of course, it’s the same guy I crashed into my first day on campus.
And he looks just as pissed as he did last time.
The hot liquid of my coffee splashes over my feet, but nothing can melt the ice I feel slithering into my veins from his hostile glare.
“You,” he sneers. “Again. Are you that clumsy, or is this some sort of ploy?”
“Ploy?” I mimic, confused and struggling to wrap my head around what he’s saying. The guy might be an asshole, butdamn,he is ahotone.
His top lip curls back on a snarl, making him appear more animal than human. Really? Does he think he’s going to growl and send me running away?
“Whatever your game is, it won’t fucking work.” His eyes drop, slowly running over me. I hate that they harden in disgust, and I self-consciously glance down at myself. I get that I’m not dressed to impress in jeans and a hoodie. Despite what this ass seems to think, I didn’t get dressed this morning with the intention of crashing into him—or anyone else, for that matter.
It’s Friday. I’m exhausted, and I have a weekend of work ahead of me. The only person I dressed for this morning is me.
“You think I ran into you on purpose?” I bite back rather aggressively.
I’m all for simply apologizing and moving on purely to avoid confrontation, even if it’s not necessarily my fault, but this has happened twice now. Honestly, though, I’m tired and pissed at his shitty attitude.
I bark out a caustic laugh. “Why the hell would I deliberately run into you when you havethaton your forehead?” I point with my index finger between his brows.
