"You're in my seat."
Sarah looked up from her coffee, blinking in surprise. It took her a moment to pinpoint exactly where the statement had come from. The coffeehouse was packed with students studying for finals, something she normally would have anticipated. She'd lived in the small college town long enough to know when classes began and ended, and when exams were. But the latest work drama had wiped everything from her mind, except the overwhelming urge to do bodily harm.
Instead of giving in to that urge, she'd left work early, headed to the coffeehouse near her apartment. And now instead of being able to enjoy her one true guilty pleasure, a tall café au lait, she was being bothered by some random guy. Just great.
"I beg your pardon?" It was the only thing that came to her mind, or the only polite thing. It seemed a bit of overkill to tell him to go fuck himself from the one simple sentence he'd uttered.
"I said, you're in my seat. I always have the table by the window, it's where I do my work. It's part of the structure. And you're screwing it up."
Sarah blinked again, taking a long moment both to compose a retort, and to look him over. He was good enough looking, if you went for the dark, brooding poet thing. His hair was black, long enough to touch his shoulders, and he shook it back with a casualness that told her it was habit. The blue of his eyes was a dark color that made Sarah think of ocean depths, and the look in them was distinctly unhappy. Actually, to be completely honest, it was edging towards pissed.
His clothes went with his overall darkness, dark shirt, dark jeans. Everything dark. They fit his frame well, outlining the tall lankiness without making him seem painfully skinny. Sarah wasn't surprised to see motorcycle boots on his feet, or a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.
Probably a Lit major. Takes self torture to a new level.
"Last time I checked, nobody had bought this table. Sorry, but you'll have to find another place to work today." Sarah turned her attention back to the window. Not that there was anything going on outside, but it would serve better to get the point across. She wasn't moving. She'd spent her entire day catering to the whims of assholes. She'd be damned if some college kid pushed her around.
She jumped when something thudded on the table, her eyes jerking away from the window. Her mouth fell open when she saw his messenger bag on the scarred wood surface, and only watched as he pulled out the chair across from her and dropped his considerable height into it. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm sitting down. There's an open chair, I'm using it." His mouth, which Sarah noticed was wide and lush, curved up in a mocking smile. "If you don't like it, you can always find another table."
Sarah tapped her nails against the table, a fast rhythm that matched the pace of her heart. She couldn't very well yell at him to leave--he wasn't exactly harassing her. In fact, now that he was sitting, he was pulling a laptop out of his bag, for all intents and purposes about to do whatever work he'd come to do. But she wasn't moving. She wasn't.
"It's called compromise, kitten. Something they teach you at that fancy school down the street." His lips quirked again, but his eyes were focused on his computer screen. "Or they should, for the price of a semester there."
"What, Mommy and Daddy cut you off? You have to finish paying for your own piece of paper meaning nothing?" Sarah turned her attention back to the sidewalk, for lack of anything else to do. She kept her voice purposefully casual. She knew from experience the more casual the tone of voice, the worse the insult.
"Kitten, I haven't seen the inside of a school for ten years. And you're one to talk, when I'm betting that Daddy bought everything you're wearing."
"Considering the fact that he ran off with my babysitter about fifteen years ago, I'd say you lost that bet." Sarah took a slow sip of coffee, finding herself enjoying their sparring. His wit was quicker than that of most of the people she knew. It didn't make her feel like she was kicking a puppy. "Does that mean that you'll leave me alone now?"
"No, but I will apologize."
"Don't bother. I'm sure you'd wind up choking on it, and I have no desire to perform anything life-saving on you." Sarah slit her eyes toward him, biting her tongue when she saw the grin spread across his face. "Although you would have to leave the table then, wouldn't you?"
"So would you, so we'd both lose. No point in playing a game if there's no winner." Sarah listened to the steady clack of keys for a long while, the sound oddly soothing compared to the background noise of study groups and the espresso machine. "What's your name?"
"Why do you care?"
"I'd prefer to know a woman's name before I sleep with her, but if you're shy, I'll let it go."
Sarah bobbled her coffee cup, her gaze jerking away from the window to meet his smirk. "I beg your pardon?"
"That's what started it, you know. That slightly snooty phrase and tone, even though you look like you'd jump if someone said 'boo' too loudly." He tapped a few more keys before closing the laptop and sliding it into bag on the table. "And then you got more interesting the bitchier you got. It's not your usual thing, I can tell. But you like it."
"Anything else you can tell?" Sarah tried for icy, not surprised that she failed. Rude, she could handle. She'd been a secretary for the head partner at Brown and Baker for the past seven years. She'd been treated with as little regard as the carpet for all seven of them. Actually, Mr. Brown treated his carpet better than her--it was an antique.
