Caleb stood at the end of the row with his coffee and his entitlement and waited for Rhys to move.
Rhys kept not writing in his notebook.
"I said you're in my seat."
"Didn't realize they assigned seats in college." Rhys still didn't look up. "Thought that stopped around the same time people stopped making scrapbooks for guys who don't want them."
The class inhaled. Thirty people sucking in air at the same time. Someone in the back row whispered oh my God. Caleb's face went from dark to white – not from fear, from the precise, surgical humiliation of being publicly connected to the Valentine's night story in a room full of people who already knew it.
He stepped forward. Fist curling around his coffee cup hard enough to dent it.
"Say that again."
"Mr. Park." Professor Whitfield's voic
