♡AN ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS ROMANCE♡
Attending the same college is the only thing Sebastian Hutches and Tara Van Doren have in common.
To Sebastian, Tara is a rich, spoiled girl, obsessed with her looks and status.
To Tara, Sebastian is a rude, arrogant...
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Tick-tock.
The brown clock on the library wall mocks me, slowly moving its spindly hands. One minute. Two. Three.
She's late.
Of course, she's late.
She must think I was kidding when I said I needed her to be on time. Although, who are we fooling here? People like her don't understand punctuality. They're used to others waiting for them.
My strained eyes skim through my notes. I did my part of the task, so even if she doesn't show up, it'll be okay. Dr. Garcia won't give me a bad grade. Leaving becomes more appealing as the seconds tick by.
The loud click of heels breaks the quiet, and several students interrupt their reading to glance toward the entrance. Couldn't she just wear sneakers or some shit that doesn't make noise? No. That would be too low-key for an attention seeker like Barbie.
I pretend to be engrossed in my book until the sickeningly sweet smell of her perfume hits my nostrils. "Barbie. Did you check your Rolex?" I say, pinning her with a hard stare. "Did the Swarovski shit fall off the face of your watch, and you couldn't read the time? Do you not own a phone?"
"I was—" She shifts her weight as if she were uncomfortable, but the thought of her being flustered by anything is ridiculous. Not as ridiculous as me waiting for Her Majesty, but still.
"Nah." I slam my textbook shut, rise to my feet, and gather the rest of my stuff. "Time is money, and I made it clear I wouldn't wait."
"It's been barely five minutes, you jerk," Barbie hisses. Her eyes blaze and her lips press into a thin line, but the show she's putting on is pointless.
I spin on my heel and walk away, leaving her behind. The idea of turning around to check how outraged her expression is taunts me, but I decide against looking at her. It's bad enough that we see each other on the regular because of our classes together.
One of the librarians, Jenny, gives me a side-eye. Barbie must've talked crap about me, but I don't care. I walk past Jenny's desk and exit the century-old library building, squinting at the bright sun.
It was smart of me to leave my 1969 Ford Mustang Boss in the shade of the trees. When I unlock it and slump into the driver's seat, the interior is cool.
I run a hand along the dashboard to rid it of the few dust particles and start the car. The purr of the engine makes me nostalgic every single time. I can almost hear Grandpa's throaty chuckle and see myself in the passenger seat, eyes glued to his hands on the wheel, excited for another adventure he'd take me on.
The offers to sell the Mustang have been quite a few, but it's my grandfather's legacy together with his old house I still hope to fix one day.
My phone buzzes a minute later. I fish it out of my pocket, hit the speaker button, and put the cell on my lap.
