Page 101 of Broken Pieces

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“You bringing me dinner now?” I mutter, phone still in my hand.

“Didn’t do it for you. I was just tired of hearing your stomach bitch louder than you do.”

I finally glance up.

His eyes are already on mine, his arm stretched out, holding a fork towards me. Mouth twitching like he’s enjoying himself way too much.

“You didn’t have to spend money on me.”

His gaze drops to my mouth before dragging slowly back up to my eyes.

“Relax. I didn’t pay.”

I hesitate, before putting my phone back down on the table.

“Guy at the shop owed me a favor. Don’t ask.”

“Legal favor?” My eyes narrow.

He shrugs with a grin slowly spreading across his mouth. “Define legal.”

Our fingers brush as I take the fork.

Heat jumps straight to my throat. I hate the way he doesn’t even have to try and I’m already short circuiting.

For a while, we eat in silence.

The quiet isn’t awkward. It never is with him.

My eyes flick up, and I catch him watching me.

Shit.

I shove a forkful of noodles into my mouth, chew too fast, and stare back down at my homework, pretending question six is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.

The silence stretches until I can feel it scrape against my skin.

“You finished that?” he asks, nodding toward the shitty old book written by some dead guy we are forced to read because it is a “classic”.

“Nah… Don’t have to. It’s not due till the end of the week.”

“Still, slacking I see.”

I arch a brow, lift my gaze slow. “Didn’t know you cared about my grades.”

“I don’t. Just didn’t picture you the type to leave things half done.” His mouth curves, lazy and smug. “Thought you’d be the kind who finishes what she starts.”

Heat coils low in my gut, hating that his words sound filthy even when they aren’t.

“Not everything’s worth finishing,” I say, the edge in my voice sharper than I intend.

“Guess that depends on what you’re starting,” he says, leaning back in the chair.

The air shifts.

Thick. Charged. Neither of us moves.

I force myself to look back at my notebook, even though the words blur on the page. My pulse doesn’t settle.