HIS LITTLE PET
I genuinely hated how easily he could pull my strings.
The next afternoon, I agreed to meet him at a small diner off-campus. I chose a booth in the very back, hoping the booth seats would block any hidden under-the-table leg action.
When Maverick slid into the seat opposite me, he looked completely refreshed. He was wearing a dark purple hoodie, looking effortlessly handsome, and he immediately pulled my cup of iced coffee toward himself and took a sip.
"Give me my coffee back," I demanded.
"Sharing is caring, Nathan," he smirked, sliding it back. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning in close. "You still mad at me?"