Page 32 of This I Promise You
“Yeah.” Paul motions with his hands. I guess he’s opening the washing machine or something, and I’m seriously about to walk out right now. “Like washer, dryer? Did you wash it?”
“No. Unlike you and Hux, I have to pay to wash clothes.” Sure, it’s only like a dollar or something, but that’s a dollar too much to do something just for him. “I think you’ll be okay.”
“Actually that works out perfectly because I don’t like other people washing my clothes.” Paul’s grin intensifies, pulling at his cheeks in this annoyingly hot way. “I’m pretty particular.”
“Then why ask?” He’s at least right about the pretty part, but he’s just trying to get under my skin. That’s it. It’s how he operates.Just ignore it.
“Had to make sure you didn’t mess my shit up,” he keeps it going, and I’m about tolosemy shit. “Duh.”
“Maybe Aidan was right,” I mumble under my breath, then look him in the eye. “Funny. You’re a real piece of work, you know that, right?”
I think that, of all the things I could have said,thatgot underhisskin. He fidgets in his seat and rolls his eyes. I’ll take it.
“Okay, fuck you.” His voice is colder, but I don’t care. “I’m just—”
“Could I get you anything?” An older waitress comes to the table, acting like we weren’t in the middle of a heated convo.
“Uh, no. I’m not staying,” I tell her.
She leaves and Paul picks back up. “I’m just trying to make conversation. This is…awkward.”
“Awkward? For you? How do you think it is for me?” Like what is his deal? “I come to Waffle House, of all the places Hux could have chosen, to giveheryour shirt, and now I’m stuck here with you trying to act like you’re not a prick.”
He raises his hand and flicks his fingers toward the door. “No one’s keeping you here, dude.”
The heat rises in my cheeks. I know I should just go, just leave and be done with this asshole, but I don’t. I stand there, staring him down like I’d actually try fighting him, as if that were even an option. Bluffing. It’s a good half-minute before either of us speaks again.
“You got your shirt,” I tell him, giving him my best annoyed look before I start to turn around. “So—”
“Wait.” Paul throws his hand up. “Don’t go. Just…wait.”
“Uh…” For some reason, I listen. I don’t know if it’s just my inner submissiveness or because I sort of want to stay no matter how stupid it is, but either way, I stop and stand next to the table.
Paul’s eyes drop to the tabletop. “So…do you…um… How are classes going so far…for you?”
“Uh…they’re…” I pooch my lips out and blow a poof of air through them. “I mean, they’re okay.”
“What’s your major?” Then his tone changes to annoyance, “Also, please sit. You’re making this worse.”
“Sure.” I take a seat opposite him. At least Huxley partially warmed the bench, it’s truly the least she could do. Please don’t let there be any syrup on it. “Poli sci and history…well, if I can get through three levels of Spanish.” I chuckle lightly and look down at my hands, then back up at Paul. “You?”
“Political science, right?” Paul furrows his brow and tilts his head.
“What else could it stand for?” Okay, now who’s being an ass?Come on, Easton!
Paul rolls his eyes again and leans forward against the table. “I don’t fucking know. Anyway, I’m a boring ol’ English major. Do you speak Spanish?”
“English, huh? A…” I’m about to mention Aidan because he’s a writer, so it connects with English, right? I stop myself just as his name is trying to slip from my tongue. Probably not the best idea right now. “Me? Speak Spanish? I’ve only taken the first class, and let’s just say it’s a struggle.”
“Probably no more than me.” Paul huffs. “I couldn’t learn another language if my fucking life depended on it.”
“You’re an English major.” I make sure I say it as dryly as possible. Like how can you not learn another language when you literally study a language? “How is another language hard for you? And you really like to say fuck, like a lot.”
Believe me I don’t mind one bit, but I’m thinking the glares the kitchen staff keep giving us might have something to do with that.
“Damn fucking right I do. What the fuck of it?” Paul drops back against the cheap booth and laughs. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to throw his feet up on the table. “English is easy. It makes sense. I like words. I tried taking German in high school, but I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I don’t know.”
“Seriously?” I’m still surprised. “I was going to be a German minor when I got here as a freshman, but I took my first German class that semester and well, hell no.”
