“No, you don’t, Allison.”
I roll my eyes. “Thank you so much for clarifying.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Why am I here, Allison?”
One look at him tells me he’s already halfway out the door, his patience worn thin. Can he really not stand me or something?
“I wanted to ask you to train me,” I say finally. “To fight.”
That gets a reaction out of him but it’s not a good one. His lips curve, disappointment barely concealed on his face. What else was he expecting?
“You texted me for that?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I finish stacking the books and he shoves his hands into his pockets, posture closing off. “I saw you fight that night and figured you’d be the best person to teach me how to defend myself.”
I lied. I don’t know why I texted him and ho
