As if he senses my stare, he turns my way. My heartbeat stutters before I flip him the bird and mouth, “Asshole.” Boris shoots me a warning look, and I send him the same message I sent Kohen. Except Boris leaves his supervisor’s post by the cafeteria door and walks toward me, reaching for the taser at his side. Oops. I jump up, ready to gap it, but both of our heads swivel toward the commotion at the lunch line. The guy ahead of Kohen has managed to spill his entire tray onto the person behind him. There’s something to be said about the predictability of ego and testosterone.
AWWWWWWWWWWW
