Avery
I watch Jase walk to the counter at the ultra-busy student commons to pick up our coffee order. He leans against the counter, T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. I think he’s probably flirting with the cashier, or she’s flirting with him. Doesn’t matter. I’m still mad at myself for how I acted in class. Just because he has many fine features did not mean I had to catalog each and every one in my damn journal. Once I realized he wrote like one line and gave up on the assignment, I felt like a complete i***t.
While I wait for him to return with our coffee, I slide my notebooks from my bag and arrange them on the table, making sure to keep the journal safely in my bag. I don’t want Jase snatching it and reading about how I think his eyes are the most mesmerizing shade of bl
