My eyes lock on his espresso-colored messenger bag, where there’s a discreet Prada logo.
“Are you lost or something?” I blurt out.
The guy gives a little laugh. “Just because I don’t come barreling around corners doesn’t mean I’m lost.”
“I wasn’t barreling,” I snap. “I’m just in a hurry.”
He picks up a tampon and hands it to me with an innocent smile. I try to look unfazed as I grab it and stuff it into the bottom of my bag. Really, of all the things to pick up, he goes for that one?
I snatch up the rest of my things and jam them into the bag, standing as I yank the zipper closed. “Whatever. I just thought I could point you in the right direction.”
“I’ll be a senior starting in September. I know my way around the campus,” he says, standing to tower over me.
“A senior here?” I gape. “Because you look like you walked off a Harvard admissions brochure.”
He raises an eyebrow that’s a couple of shades darker than his blond hair. “Stereotype much?”
I don’t even know why I’m engaging in an argument with the guy, but there’s something smug about him, and all that tidy perfection bugs the crap out of me. I prefer my dudes real, and this one isn’t.
I sort of wave my hand up and down in his direction. “It’s just that I think you forgot to change out of your country-club uniform.”
He takes a tiny step closer to me, and I try to ignore the fact that he’s about a foot taller than me and has a perfect view down my shirt.
“Does the surly mood come with the goth outfit?” he asks, giving me a once-over. “Or do you have to buy it separately?”
I hold up a hand to shield my eyes. “Could you please watch where you’re pointing your teeth? The glare from your caps is hurting my eyes.”
He runs a tongue over his ridiculously white teeth, looking thoughtful. “You know, sometimes if I don’t have enough light to study by, I just smile and use the reflection from these pearly whites.”
It’s a lame comeback, but I roll my eyes and let him win the sparring contest. I’m over this ridiculous conversation, and I head toward my classroom, well aware that I’m now a full twenty minutes late.
“You’re not even going to say good-bye?” he calls after me. “I picked up your tampon!”
I give a dismissive flick of my hand over my head, not bothering to turn around.