Page 10 of Pomegranates and Olive

"Did you steal my coffee —?" I look up... up... up to find the one person I had hoped never to see again. It was Queue-Jumper and he was scowling down at me. Again. "—andswear at me in Italian?"

"Why did you push in line?"

I look around the gate for potential witnesses. Where the hell is everyone? We should be boarding soon.

"I don't believe I did."

"Well, I don'tbelieveI stole your espresso macchiato."

"If you really wanted a coffee I would have paid for one."

"You did!" I grin at him triumphantly.

"Sei un rompicoglioni."

Ball-breaker?

"You know, I'm surprisingly okay with that."

"I should, however, apologise to you for thinking you were flirting with me." He smirks as he looks me up and down. I have the overwhelming urge to slap him. "You really don't look like the kind of woman that would enjoy being flirted with."

"Well that's downright insulting. I look exactly like the kind of woman that enjoys that kind of thing!"

I know I do because my, as already established, genius fashionista of a little sister helped put together my outfit (her most popular white “Gypsy Rose” spaghetti-strap tank top, topped with my black blazer, my old jeans that fit me like a glove giving my ass a look that would make a Kardashian jealous, and cute red Converse). She told me that I looked totally “do-able!”

"I don't know how to respond to that."

I inhale swiftly and puff out my chest with determination. "Let me get this straight. You're not apologising for cutting in line, instead you're apologising for being so arrogant that you think I would even want to flirt with someone like you?"

"Someone like me?" His eyes stray to my boobs, currently straining to burst free from my string tank top, which may or may not actually be one size too small for me, before darting back to my face. I shoot him a smirk and cross my arms, even as a strange shiver dances along my skin.

I know what you did there, buddy.

He knows that I know as well, but he didn't even have the decency to look slightly embarrassed at being caught. "Yes, someone like you! Arrogant! And a pervert!"

"You think I'm arrogant?"

"Totally." Despite myself, my lips twitch with laughter. His did as well and we grin at each other for a moment. His eyes really are incredible... I shake my head lightly.

Stop drooling, Liv.

"And definitely a perv!"

"Maybe, but at least I am not a thief."

His grin tells me he's enjoying himself as well and I mutter Shakespeare at him as I guiltily hand over his coffee. "The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief."

"Othello."

I look up at him in surprise as he examines the lightly chewed, lipstick-stained cup in my hand.

"Maybe you should keep it. I probably drink too much coffee anyway."

"Thank you."

"Think of it as my apology for cutting in line —"

Apology? Ha!

---