Page 6 of Exchange of Heart

That rancid hotdog would haunt me the rest of my life. ‘You can control the amount of perfume you douse your body in. I mean, seriously, do you bathe in pure lemon juice?’

‘It’s better than the chemical reaction you’ve got going on.’

‘I wear Armani,’ I argued.

‘Just because you wear it, doesn’t make it good.’

My fists clenched and I swallowed the growl grumbling in my throat.

‘We’re going to take a break.’ The teacher turned the screen off and gave us a pointed look.

Everyone grabbed their bags and shuffled to the door.

‘You coming, Corey?’ That junior dickhead blinked at me with his wide, young eyes.

‘When I’m ready,’ I grunted.

‘And no manners,’ Nora spoke to herself quietly.

My head whipped around; my index finger pointed like a compass of rage. ‘Let’s hash this out, now.’

She blinked lazily, as though the words coming from my mouth were no more interesting than if I were reciting the first page of the dictionary. The scattering of freckles across her nose danced as it twitched.

‘I’m starving.’ She crossed her arms in defiance.

I swear to God, if she mentions that damn hotdog again, I’m going to throw myself out the window. ‘Great, dinner’s on me.’

I couldn’t ignore the perfect opportunity to bury our insults and move on with our lives. It was ridiculous how our feud had snowballed after a few data input suggestions I’d offered on our first day. It had been a bloody pissing contest ever since with me trying to prove my knowledge while she tried to outdo me.

She slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘Lead the way,’ she purred.

She followed me out the door to the right and down the narrow hall past other classrooms. At the end of the corridor I opened the thick white door into the cafeteria and her citrus skin floated past me to a table in the right-hand corner.

‘What do you want?’ I asked.

‘Lots of money, a car, and an apartment with floorboards that don’t moan louder than me in the bedroom.’

My pupils widened at the image, but I cleared my throat and expanded on my question, ‘To eat.’

‘Oh. Something hot.’

I waited a few more moments for her to specify, then gave up and went to get spaghetti. When I returned, her fingers were flying across the keys of her laptop as though she’d injected caffeine directly into each phalange.

‘Is everything okay?’ I placed the food to the side so she wouldn’t send it across the room.

‘Someone like you wouldn’t understand.’ She slapped enter with force and slammed the laptop shut.

‘Look, I know we’ve spent the last few months…’ I hesitated, trying to find the right words.

‘I can see how you got your job. Great vocabulary.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ My fork clattered against my plate.

‘Look at you. Late twenties like me and somehow scored a respectable position with an obviously respectable wage—’ she glanced at my Rolex— ‘yet you’re still studying the same course as me.’

‘So? I’m qualified and good at my job.’ I didn’t mention the position was basically a birthright – or inconvenience in my case.

‘Yeah?’ Her pupils dilated with rage. ‘So am I. Damn good at it. Yet Freddie,’ she spat his name, ‘managed a promotion after five short months.’