Dominic's POV
My jaw hit the floor, my mind racing to make sense of what she just said.
'Is she seriously taking another shot at me?' I wondered.
Whatever. I brushed it off.
I'd been screwing things up since I could walk—always the guy who crashed and burned at everything except creating total mayhem.
Getting burned was par for the course, and Amara's dig wasn't going to mess with my head.
I was pumping myself up, ready to deliver some smooth, swoon-worthy line that would knock her socks off, when Amara sliced right through my moment like a blade.
She smacked the pile of papers on the counter with a business-like expression. "Here. Copy these."
My half-baked romantic momentum died faster than a phone battery.
"Twenty cents per page," I muttered, my energy completely drained.
Amara barely batted an eye. "I'll pick them up before class this afternoon."
"Wait, hang on—" I started, but Amara was already marching toward the exit, leaving me in the dust.
