Page 33 of Cold Front
Me: Mind your business.
Niall’s response came a second later.
Niall: Shut up, Asher.
I snuck a glance at Niall. He was looking straight ahead, his face perfectly neutral. But his grip on his phone was a little tighter, like he knew exactly what he’d just done.
Damn, he was cute when he was grumpy.
When class ended, Niall stood, stretching out his shoulders.
“I’ve got another class,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Later,” Asher said, already moving toward the door.
“Yeah,” I said, watching him for a second longer than I needed to.
Niall nodded, then turned and walked off.
I had no idea why I was already looking forward to later.
CHAPTER14
ELI
Sophia stepped out of the library beside me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as the automatic doors slid shut behind us.
“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” she asked, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
She shot me a quick smile before heading off in the opposite direction, her boots crunching over scattered leaves.
I turned toward the grocery store, my breath curling in the cool evening air.
Back in L.A., I drove everywhere. My parents had gifted me a car for my eighteenth birthday—sleek, reliable, and something I’d assumed I couldn’t live without. But here? Everything important was close by. Campus, the apartments, the grocery store. Walking didn’t bother me. I barely even missed having a ride.
At least, not until now.
When I’d entered the library, the sun was still up, and fifty-something degrees had felt manageable. But now? The temperature had dipped, and the last of the sunlight was fading into a soft, golden haze.
I flexed my fingers in my pockets, debating whether I should turn back and grab something warmer. But the grocery store was just ahead—closer than the apartment—and going back didn’t make much sense. Besides, Niall had his car. I’d get home in comfort.
I picked up the pace.
Niall was already waiting outside of the store, leaning against a cart like he had all the patience in the world.
And like he belonged in a damn magazine spread.
The parking lot lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his jaw. He was wearing a black jacket, heavier than what I had on, but not quite winter gear. Something practical, fitted, like the kind of thing an athlete would throw on without thinking twice. Hands stuffed into his pockets, broad shoulders hunched slightly against the breeze, he looked effortlessly put together.
I, on the other hand, was actively fighting the urge to shiver.
He glanced up as I approached, his sharp blue eyes skimming over me before settling on my face.
“You’re late.”
His voice was low, even, but something about it sent a flicker of warmth through me.
