When she notices me coming, she glances at the ceiling and mutters, “Fuck.” When her brown eyes meet mine again, they tighten at the corners. “Are you here to make fun of me?” “I was going to help you, but I can leave.” “I don’t want your help.” “You look like you need it.” Rage makes her nostrils flare. “You’re arrogant.” “You seem to bring that quality out of me, sweetheart.”
