I shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t tell her much of anything. She must’ve put two and two together all on her own and come up with you being a jerk face.”His gaze slid back to me and he grinned. “Ouch, shortie.”“Yeah, like that really bothered you.” I glanced back through the small window in the door that led to bio. Mr. Tucker was already at his desk—was Mrs. Cleo ever coming back?—and we only had a minute, tops, before the tardy bell rang. “What did you want?”Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin slip of yellow paper, waving it in my face. “Guess what I found?”“Obviously not a better personality,” I remarked.“Ha. Funny.” He brushed the edge of the paper across my nose and smiled when I smacked it away.
Jennifer L. Armentrout, Stone Cold Touch
humour