Page 18 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

I run over to the nearest napkin dispenser, take out a bunch, and start rubbing them all over his chest as though napkins are going to magicallyunruin his white shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeat, my clumsy attempts at cleaning up the mess only making things worse. Any inch of fabric that wasn’t covered in chocolate before definitely is now.

“It’s fine, I got it.” Aaron takes the dirty napkins from my hand. He doesn’t seem super mad, but he also doesn’t seem like he’s a fan of me right now, understandably so.

“You should go soak your shirt in hot water. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, I promise.”

“I said it’s fine, don’t worry.” A hint of annoyance bleeds through his words, but he remains polite despite being forced to wear my milkshake. “I’m going to go rinse it off or something.”

I watch as he throws away the dirty napkins and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

Why did I have to do that?

The first time I might be semi-interested in a guy in ages, and I have to go and pour a whole milkshake on him.

And the cherry on top? I got some milkshake on my new blouse, too. I never buy myself clothes, but this was a gift from the girls for my twentieth birthday.

Way to go, Lace.

I have no doubt the entire diner is looking at me, including all my friends, but I spare myself any more embarrassment and book it to the ladies’ room to try and salvage my blouse.

Thankfully, the bathroom appears to be empty.

I strip off my blouse, now only wearing a tank top, and twist the water on.

“My, my… lost your sister, dumped a milkshake on your crush. This isn’t your week, huh, rich girl?”

I nearly flatline, my eyes lifting to the mirror. TJ stands behind me, his back pressed to the door and his arms crossed over his chest.

“What do you want, TJ?” I huff, bringing my focus back to the task at hand.

He scoffs. “Haven’t we been over that already?”

I knew it.

This is about the tutoring thing.

I continue to rub my blouse under running water. “Too bad the answer hasn’t changed. Now, scram.”

“I think I can help you with your… problem.”

I don’t even look at him. “Unless you have the ability to turn back time, I don’t need your help.”

In response, he pushes off the door and stalks toward me. “That’s not the problem I’m talking about.”

Annoyance courses through me like lava, and I turn to face him. He’s much closer than I anticipated, the height difference between us forcing me to crane my neck.

“Then what is?”

Everything this guy does just rubs me the wrong way. And him ambushing me in the women’s bathroom after I made a complete fool of myself isn’t helping his case.

“When’s the last time you got some action? Be honest.”

I arch an eyebrow. Did he just ask me that?

“W-What?”

“The last time someone fucked your brains out. When was it?”

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