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I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice. Why am I being such a prick? This is not how I wanted this to go.

He stares at me for a moment before there’s a shift in his expression, confusion giving way to irritation.

“Do I know you?”

Wow. The question stings. In his world, I don’t even exist. I want to tell him that I know him. But I can’t tell him that. I could never tell him that.

“Lucien Ashford. We have English lit together. And history.”

“Right,” he says, but his tone suggests he still doesn’t remember me, or he’s pretending not to.

A wave of humiliation climbs up my back. I’ve spent my life being the one people remember. If this is some kind of psychological game to wind me up, then he’s smarter than I thought. But I can’t tell. He looks genuinely unaware that we’ve ever existed in the same space.

What a fucking dick.

“So what’s the problem then?” I ask, nodding at his hand playing with his hair.

His eyes narrow. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am.”

“If you say so.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, and I can feel the friction mounting. I’ve been standing in front of him for too long. I must look pathetic to him, but part of me is desperate to know what’s really bothering him, and I can’t explain it.

“You’re American,” I say, hoping to keep the conversation going and soften the edge between us.

“Yeah, so are you.”

“I’ve been here since I was fourteen,” I say. “You’re new.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” he asks, and there’s anger in his voice now.

“Just making conversation,” I say, but even I can hear the arrogance in my tone. I’m overcompensating. I know I am. But I can’t stop.

“Well, don’t,” Cameron snaps and turns back to his laptop.

The rejection is biting, and for a second, I just stand there, staring at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I said don’t,” he repeats, not looking up. “I’m trying to work, and you’re being an asshole.”

I shudder at the cold dismissal.

“I’m being an asshole?”

“Yeah,” he says, finally looking up at me. His brown eyes are hard now, all the warmth gone. “You came over here, insulted me, and now you’re acting like I’m the problem. So yeah. You’re being an asshole.”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, and then he looks back down at his work.

Dismissed.

I turn and walk away, my face burning, my hands still clenched into fists.