Page 35 of The Other Side
“It’s hot chocolate,” he noted before taking a sip.
When I said nothing and made no attempt to move, he looked up at me, eyebrow raised in jest, and said, “It’s not poisoned.”
I looked down at the cup, wondering what it would mean if I took a drink.
“You’re not lactose intolerant or allergic to chocolate, are you?” He laughed.
“No,” I replied quietly. Feeling his eyes on me, I took a sip to appease him. A soft moan escaped as the liquid hit my tongue. It was perfect. Of course. Cooled to just the right temperature, and creamy because he’d used milk instead of water. I couldn’t help but go back for another taste.
Daring to glance up at Chance, he displayed only the hint of a satisfied smirk.
“Truce?”
I frowned. “Don’t press your luck.”
His smirk broadened in amusement as I couldn’t help but take another drink.
“What does it matter if we’re on good terms or not?” I leaned my weight against the heavy wood study table.
“Why do you insist on pushing everyone away?” he countered.
I scoffed.
“I like you, Violet.” His gaze turned hungry. “I know you like me too. I think you hate that you do.” Chance chuckled darkly.
Was I so easy to read?
I could only glare in response. My stomach flipped at his admission.
He leaned forward, slightly invading my space, his voice was low when he said, “From what I can tell, the school doesn’t enforce this non-fraternization policy you keep using as justification for keeping me at arm’s length. So unless you tell me to stop, I think I’ll keep pushing.”
“Maybe you should stop,” I whispered half-heartedly, internally cursing the tremor in my voice.
“You sure about that?” Chance cocked his head.
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t mean it. I knew that. He knew that.
“What are you working on?” Chance changed the subject suddenly, his fingers sliding over the stack of papers behind me on the table.
“Grading midterms.” I swallowed; he was still achingly close.
“Is it okay if I stay up here for a while?” He took a step back from me, picking up the stack of yearbooks.
“Sure, whatever.” I waved a hand flippantly.
He flashed me a grin, then strode past me to settle on the couch. Chance was surprisingly respectful while I worked. Save for the sound of him flipping through yearbooks and the tension still lingering in the air, I barely noticed he was there.
I had expected to feel more put out with him in the room, but I continued to feel drawn to him in a way that made me question everything. I regretted not allowing myself to enjoy the lounge for the past few weeks. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad with him around after all.
Make no mistake, I was still going to figure him out, but I didn’t have to force myself to be miserable in the process.
After a couple hours, satisfied with the progress I’d made on my stack of exams, I began to pack my things. My stomach grumbled on cue, suddenly realizing it was past lunch.
“Heading out?”
“For a while,” I replied. “I want to grab something to eat from the dining hall.”
“Can I come?” he asked eagerly, already striding over to the bookshelf to replace the yearbooks in their proper spots, as promised.
