my toes—but his facial expression remained even, and when he spoke again, his voice was cool and impassive.
“I’m left-handed,” he said.
Before I could respond, he shoved past me, nearly making my stuff fall out of my arms.
I stood there, feeling reasonably surprised. Left-handed. Like Ash? I mean, I had no problem with left-handedness, but really? Two idiots on my turf, and they both turned out to be lefties?
Kind of impossible. Kind of adorable. Kind of cool, in a weird way.
I looked out the window and was relieved when I saw that Ash and his girl were gone. I wasn’t in the mood to put on my girl-best-friend act—the one where I teased him about being an idiot when all I wanted to do was do something dirty to that mouth of his.
Hunter came back with two empty bags and one that contained a box of charcoal and some fancy ink pens. Without a word, he grabbed my stuff and bagged them, then held them out to me.
“What?” I scrunched up my eyebrows, but took them anyway. “We can’t leave. I have to pay.”
“I already paid.”
That made me stop on my tracks. Then, after a moment, a slow smile spread across my face. “Oh, man. Your niceness levels today are completely off the charts.”
“Enjoy it. It’s not going to last.”
Ha. “Admit it,” I said, and nudged him with the end of the rolled paper. “ You want to be friends with me.”
“That’s the funniest and possibly stupidest conclusion I’ve ever heard.”
“You”—and I nudged him again, following him to the door—“you like me. Admit it. You, Hunter Slade, Mr. I-carry-Butterfingers-around-even-though-I-hate-them—you like me.”
“Cocky little mouse. I made it crystal clear. Your A-c ups aren’t enough. Even if they were C-cups they wouldn’t be enough. Do you know what a hairbrush is? I’m sure that’s a word foreign to you. And—”
“Shut up. I don’t mean it like that.” I bit back a smile as we crossed the street. “I mean that you like me. As—wait for it—a person .”
“Well, yes. Yes, indeed. You’re a person.”
“Stop fighting it. We were paired up for a reason. This, you, us—our friendship—the angels wanted it to be. Don’t fight it,” I repeated, attaining a mellow tone. “Go with the flow.”
Once again, he looked as if he were trying not to smile. “You’re—really something.”
“Arigato.”
“That reminds me.”
“Sounds awfully like pink hair. And yes.” As I reached my bike and unlocked it from the pole, I gave him a solemn look. “Your application’s been accepted and is currently under review.”
“Ah.”
“There’s a point system, you should know. Right now, you’re at plus twelve.”
“Twelve,” he echoed.
“You act like a twelve-year-old,” I said. “Generous, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“That’s minus five points.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“Minus two.” I smiled sweetly. “Keep going, and you might just roll into the negatives in your first day.”
“I’ll try to keep my mouth shut,” he promised, reaching into his back pocket and taking out a cigarette. When he saw me staring at him, he said, “What?”
I held back the urge to rip it away from him. “I’m trying to decide whether I should deduct five hundred points or crumple your application and shove it up your ass. You’re not coming anywhere near my Sumi with your damn secondhand smoke. I forgot to mention that.”
He ducked his head to light up. “Oh?”
“I hope your hair catches on fire. And yes, oh .” I stuffed my art supplies into my bag and zipped it shut. “I don’t want her to be with you if that means she would get lung cancer or something. You can go ahead and die alone, and leave my Sumi as she is.”
Looking unimpressed by my cancer-threat, he let out a puff of smoke. I was about to add something to my oh-so-clever rant when a puppy ran up to him and, letting out a happy bark, got up on its hind legs, pressed its paws against his jeans. Its tail
“I’m left-handed,” he said.
Before I could respond, he shoved past me, nearly making my stuff fall out of my arms.
I stood there, feeling reasonably surprised. Left-handed. Like Ash? I mean, I had no problem with left-handedness, but really? Two idiots on my turf, and they both turned out to be lefties?
Kind of impossible. Kind of adorable. Kind of cool, in a weird way.
I looked out the window and was relieved when I saw that Ash and his girl were gone. I wasn’t in the mood to put on my girl-best-friend act—the one where I teased him about being an idiot when all I wanted to do was do something dirty to that mouth of his.
Hunter came back with two empty bags and one that contained a box of charcoal and some fancy ink pens. Without a word, he grabbed my stuff and bagged them, then held them out to me.
“What?” I scrunched up my eyebrows, but took them anyway. “We can’t leave. I have to pay.”
“I already paid.”
That made me stop on my tracks. Then, after a moment, a slow smile spread across my face. “Oh, man. Your niceness levels today are completely off the charts.”
“Enjoy it. It’s not going to last.”
Ha. “Admit it,” I said, and nudged him with the end of the rolled paper. “ You want to be friends with me.”
“That’s the funniest and possibly stupidest conclusion I’ve ever heard.”
“You”—and I nudged him again, following him to the door—“you like me. Admit it. You, Hunter Slade, Mr. I-carry-Butterfingers-around-even-though-I-hate-them—you like me.”
“Cocky little mouse. I made it crystal clear. Your A-c ups aren’t enough. Even if they were C-cups they wouldn’t be enough. Do you know what a hairbrush is? I’m sure that’s a word foreign to you. And—”
“Shut up. I don’t mean it like that.” I bit back a smile as we crossed the street. “I mean that you like me. As—wait for it—a person .”
“Well, yes. Yes, indeed. You’re a person.”
“Stop fighting it. We were paired up for a reason. This, you, us—our friendship—the angels wanted it to be. Don’t fight it,” I repeated, attaining a mellow tone. “Go with the flow.”
Once again, he looked as if he were trying not to smile. “You’re—really something.”
“Arigato.”
“That reminds me.”
“Sounds awfully like pink hair. And yes.” As I reached my bike and unlocked it from the pole, I gave him a solemn look. “Your application’s been accepted and is currently under review.”
“Ah.”
“There’s a point system, you should know. Right now, you’re at plus twelve.”
“Twelve,” he echoed.
“You act like a twelve-year-old,” I said. “Generous, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“That’s minus five points.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“Minus two.” I smiled sweetly. “Keep going, and you might just roll into the negatives in your first day.”
“I’ll try to keep my mouth shut,” he promised, reaching into his back pocket and taking out a cigarette. When he saw me staring at him, he said, “What?”
I held back the urge to rip it away from him. “I’m trying to decide whether I should deduct five hundred points or crumple your application and shove it up your ass. You’re not coming anywhere near my Sumi with your damn secondhand smoke. I forgot to mention that.”
He ducked his head to light up. “Oh?”
“I hope your hair catches on fire. And yes, oh .” I stuffed my art supplies into my bag and zipped it shut. “I don’t want her to be with you if that means she would get lung cancer or something. You can go ahead and die alone, and leave my Sumi as she is.”
Looking unimpressed by my cancer-threat, he let out a puff of smoke. I was about to add something to my oh-so-clever rant when a puppy ran up to him and, letting out a happy bark, got up on its hind legs, pressed its paws against his jeans. Its tail
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