look is supposed to mean.
Little Miss Priss will not be deterred from her mission: keeping me from eating my damn lunch.
“Oh no you will not!”
“You’re cute.”
Her arms cross. “Don’t you dare insult me.”
Calling her cute is an insult? This is news to me. “Since when is it an insult to call someone cute?”
“It’s an insult when the person complimenting you is an asshole.”
“Darlin’, you’ve just got your dander up. This ain’t got nothin’ to do with me.”
Her pretty face is smug. “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with me? Oh my god, where were you raised?”
“Texas.” Don’t fucking mess with it.
She rolls her eyes.
They’re bright blue.
“I’ve been to Texas—no one there talks like that.”
I’m close to polishing off this entire chicken breast. “Talks like what?”
“Like a hick.”
A hick? The fuck… “You think name-callin’ is nice?”
“Name-cawlin’,” she mocks. Now who’s the asshole?
The kid behind the grill has two foil-wrapped burgers in his hand, suspended in midair—unsure of what the hell to do with them as I stand here verbally sparring with this little hellcat.
“I’ll take them both,” I tell him over her head.
“I’ll take them both!” she counters, leveling me with a stare.
“You said you didn’t want no burger.”
“I don’t have time to stand here and wait for another chicken sandwich, jerk—this is my only option.”
“You’re gonna eat two burgers?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You can’t take them both just to spite me.”
“I’ll do whatever I want—I’m at the front of the line.” She turns her back on me once again. “If you give him those burgers, I will find your manager and…and…”
The bastard hands her both burgers, and I take the opportunity to shoot him a death glare, hoping he wets his pants a little.
I tail the blonde to the cash resisters, pilfering a banana, two protein bars, another bag of chips, and a rice krispy treat from a nearby snack rack as we pass it by.
“Come on, just give me one of the burgers.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Some of us really do need to learn the hard way,” she says to no one in particular, ignoring me completely.
“You’re not going to eat both of those.”
This time she does acknowledge me. “So? They’re mine—I can do whatever I want with them.”
“You ain’t gonna waste them. You’re not the type.”
“Thanks for stereotyping me as not a waster.”
I roll my eyes. She is as prickly as a cactus and twice as pretty as one in bloom—which is the weirdest metaphor I’ve ever thrown out, but there you go.
“That was a compliment.”
She shoots me a look over her shoulder and keeps walking. “Are you still following me?”
“Yeah—I’m still starvin’.”
The little shit rolls her eyes and throws a thumb toward the buffet. “Get in line like the rest of the general population.”
“Gimme one of them burgers. Please.”
She stops in her tracks at that, spinning on her heel to face me, and it’s then that I get a really good, hard look at her. Wavy blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face. Dark brown eyes, so deep they’re like fresh mud in a cattle field. Freckles dotted across a pert little nose and high cheekbones. Pink skin quickly dented by a small dimple appearing on her right cheek.
Well fuck me sideways and color me surprised. This little spitfire is full of gumption and prettier than a peach.
Beautiful, especially now that she’s good and riled up.
“You can have the burger for ten bucks.”
“Say again?” I can’t have heard her right.
“I said—give me ten dollars and the sandwich is yours.” It stays clutched in her grip; she makes no move to hand it over.
It’s getting colder by the second, and nothing gets me grumpier than cold food.
“That’s extortion.” I’m fucking starving and she damn well knows it!
“No,” she smugly informs me. “That’s supply and demand. You would know that if you attended classes.”
“I attend my classes.” Just like everyone else.
“Oh yeah, which ones?” The brows above her dark eyes rise. “How to be a Jock 101?”
They have a class called How to be a Jock? Weird. “I’m an ag major—we don’t have classes like that.”
“What’s an egg major?”
“Ag—as in agriculture.”
A snicker bubbles out of her throat; she sure is a snotty little thing, something I don’t appreciate.
I reach for a hamburger.
She pulls it back, out of my reach. “Ten bucks.”
“Five.”
“Eight.”
“You haven’t even paid for these yet,” I remind her.
“How about you pay for all of it and let me keep these two?”
“How about I pay for all of it and you give those both to me?” I nod toward the burgers.
“I haven’t eaten yet,