“So you gonna answer and tell me who hit you, or should I just start guessing?” My pen presses so hard against the paper, it tears through the sheet.
I slam the notebook closed and tug my hoodie back up.
“Why are you even sitting here?” I snap. “There are plenty of empty tables.”
He shrugs, completely unfazed. “Because I can.” The casual arrogance in his voice makes something inside me crack. I shove my books into my bag and stand up, ignoring the ache in my ribs from Frank’s shove this morning.
“I have work,” I mutter, keeping my voice low. I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Instead, I hold my breath and leave to walk to work.
Outside, the air hits me and I shiver at the icy breeze. We are on the brink of a season change, the weather in one moment going from toler
