Hate the Game - Winter Renshaw Page 0,10

my shoulders, ignoring the fact that it stops just above my knees and is comically enormous on me. The faded scent of fabric softener and cologne envelops the air around me.

Talon watches me mess with the zipper and then he wears some half-cocked smirk as his stare lingers.

My stomach flips, but I don’t allow myself to accept the compliment or read into the fact that he’s looking at me the way a guy would look at some girl prancing around half-naked in nothing more than one of his old t-shirts.

“Ready?” he asks.

A couple of minutes later, we manage to find an unoccupied plot of grass in the back corner of the commons. It’s getting darker with every passing moment, the sky transitioning from a peachy pink horizon to an ombre midnight blue directly above us—stars and all.

If this were a date—which it isn’t—this would be the perfect backdrop.

I take a seat on the cold ground, the mild wintry wind kissing my face, and Talon cozies up beside me, so close his knee is almost touching mine. It’s strange, but we’ve yet to reach for our notebooks. We just sit here, silent, eyes locked under a moonless sky.

A shiver runs through me, though I’m not cold.

I’m quite warm in his hoodie.

“No freaking way,” a girl’s voice fills the space behind us. I turn and spot Kaitlyn from Anthro gawking at us. She can’t grab her phone fast enough and within seconds she’s tapping out a text to a mystery recipient.

Talon follows my gaze and then rolls his eyes. “Ignore her.”

Without saying a word, I turn away and dust my palms together. Done and done.

I’ve been the target of many-a-mean-girl before. I’m practically an old pro at this.

A moment later, Kaitlyn is still standing a couple of yards behind us. “Becca, you’re not going to believe this. Remember that girl from Anthro? She’s studying with Talon outside the library right now. I know? I can’t believe it either. Maybe there’s hope for me after all.”

Before I have a chance to process what she’s just said, Talon’s climbing up from the ground and marching over to the smart-mouthed little freshman.

“You mind?” he asks, hands on his hips. His brows are knit and his mouth is pressed flat. “Trying to study over here. And for the record, this?” He points his finger between the two of them. “Never going to happen. Lose the hope. There is none for you.”

The girl’s mouth is agape and her eyes are shiny as glass in the seconds before thick tears drip down her cheeks. Muttering into her phone, she ends the call, slides it into her bag, and stalks off.

“Little harsh, don’t you think?” I ask when he returns.

“I don’t tolerate that kind of shit. People who think they’re better than other people for whatever asinine reasons their pea-sized brains cook up.”

I’m speechless for a moment. Intrigued. Also impressed.

“You know we have to see her in class three days a week, right?” I ask. “She sat next to me the first day.”

“If she’s smart, she’ll find a new place to sit. If she’s not, well, it’s going to be awkward for her but not me. And it shouldn’t be for you either.”

I lift my palms in the air. “It won’t be. I just … wow. I can’t believe you did that.”

“Want me to quiz you first?” he asks, switching gears.

He’s over it. I am too. I don’t like to give those kinds of people my time or energy if I can help it. Once upon a time, I’d have let it ruin my day, my week, whatever. But time and distance have fixed my former weaknesses.

“Sure.”

Talon retrieves our notebooks from his bag and hands them over. “Quick question, though, before we start.”

“Okay …”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Just when I was beginning to think that he wasn’t all that bad, that I could tolerate him for the rest of the semester, he goes and pulls this.

Was that an act earlier? Some kind of stunt he pulled to make me think he was a decent human being under all that ego? Real or fake, one thing’s for sure: he’s still a man on a mission.

And old mission.

One he’s never abandoned no matter how futile the journey has gotten.

Without hesitation, I shove my things into my bag, unzip the hoodie, and hand it back. The cool air blankets my skin but I don’t feel a thing.

“What?” he asks.

I try to speak again, but I’m at a loss for words.

“I’m really