I scrunch my nose, turning to wipe down the espresso machine. “He’s average at best.”
“He isnotaverage.” The hip bump Kameron pairs with his gasp nearly sends me off balance. “He’s got a cool, chic, laidback thing going for him. It’s sexy.”
I hip check him back and scoff. Grant’s had that aura to him as long as I’ve known him. Somehow a balanced mix of mysterious and laidback. More so now, with a more mature air, like getting into a master’s program changed something about him. Broader. Cooler.
He’s quiet enough but never shying away from attention. Brown hair flowing in perfect droves despite never seeming to style it. Even his outfits are uncomplicated by style, pressed khakis and muted sweaters. He’s effortless; I can’t deny.
When we were assigned as project partners, I stumbled over my words trying to talk to him. He seemed like someone you’re only supposed to admire from afar. But he was friendly, kind, and easy to get along with. It didn't take much before we developed a partnership. We split everything evenly, and he was responsive about our assignment. He was a dream project partner at first.
I realize now that naïve, younger me fell victim to Grant’s charm. His persona made it easy for him to slip through the cracks of my overthinking. He still has it going for him, so I can understand why Kameron is blinded by it. To an extent.
“Didn’t you say he was rich too?” Kameron asks.
I roll my eyes. It was an off-handed comment made when I was listing things about Grant to prove he’s pretentious.
He never outwardly told me he’s rich. I didn’t really have to ask. Being around him those weeks, including the occasional ride in his BMW, and his expensive watch glittering while he drove one-handed… It’s not hard to guess.
His actions line up, too. A rich guy like him wouldn’t need to worry about carefully curated ten-year plans or heavily graded final assignments.
I grab the broom against the wall and pretend I’m being productive.
“I guessed, for the record.”
Kam doesn’t seem to care whether it’s truth or hypothesis. He shrugs. “I think rich men are hot.”
“Rich menarehot, when they’re not screwing you over and risking your entire grade.”
“True.” Even if Kameron pretends to understand my emotions, I know what he really thinks. He leans over the counter to stare longingly at Grant again. “But I mean, look at him. He’s an artist, on top of it. You should’ve seen the flower he’s sketching right now. And he has a textbook calledStudying Romanticism.” Kam raises an eyebrow and drops his voice. “I can show him something he can romanticize.”
“Oh my gosh.” I push his shoulder but laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m just saying!” His hands go up in defense. “I don’t know what art romanticism is, but whatever it is, I want it withhim.”
I try to ignore him and focus on something else, like the milk cartons left on the counter during the rush. Kam continues hismonologue, not caring that I’ve told him multiple times why I despise the man he lusts over.
“Do you think if I went over there and told him about our romance story assignment, he’d agree to help teach me something?” He wiggles his shoulders jokingly, but by the way he glances back over at the window, I know he’s actually considering it.
“I don’t think that’s what a romanticism textbook is about.”
“What is it, then?”
I want to retort but can’t. This degree and my English minor are the closest I’ve gotten to studying anything of the arts. And none of it related to the visual kind.
“See, you don’t know either.” Kam looks at me pointedly. It’s meant to be lighthearted, and I want to take it as such, but jealousy leaves a sour taste on my tongue.
Kameron hasn’t struggled in the romance writing class, or any of the ones we shared, all year. In fact, I would go as far as to say he’s the top student in our cohort. It’s the place I once thought was so inevitably mine, I never imagined what it’d look like from the bottom.
I dig my nails into my palm and steer the conversation away. “I have half a mind to go over there and tell him about your crush.”
“Oh, please do.” Another pang of jealousy hits me—not for his intelligence, but because Kam is so confident and sure of himself. “It’s not a crush, per se. I just like looking at him. And would enjoy doing so in any angle, if that makes sense.”
“Ew.” I make a show of gagging and Kam waves me off.
“Just because you have a grudge, doesn’t mean he’s not hot.”
“Says you. I mean, what am I supposed to do,nothold a grudge?” If Kameron didn’t want to hear this story again, he shouldn’t have brought it up. “You would be pretty pissed too ifyour project partner ghosted you the day of your final. He didn’t even text me back! Who does that?!”
“Volume.” The pat on my shoulder is a warning to keep my voice down. I appreciate him for making sure I don’t embarrass myself mid-shift.
