A week after my tour with Shay, I’m back on the Starling campus for another meeting. We all know I’m going to take the job, but we need to do this dance just to make sure they appreciate what they’re getting.

Even though it’s cold as fuck outside and my body is no longer accustomed to this ice-and-snow shit, I parked on the liberal arts side of campus on the off chance I might run into Shay—because I’m just that pathetic. I swing into the library for a coffee and am relieved to see the grumpy barista is busy with another customer.

I hand the girl at the register my travel thermos. “A large black coffee, please.”

“You got it.” She winks at me and turns to fill my cup.

My gaze snags on the man talking on his cell at the end of the bar. George motherfucking Alby. Shayleigh’s secret boyfriend. Jesus. What a pompous ass. I hate him, and even though I know my feelings are completely biased and entangled with irrational jealousy, they’re there. I’m not interested in investing the energy to change them.

“I miss you too,” he says softly. Hell. Is he talking to Shay? His grin turns lascivious. “Save that for tonight. It’ll be worth the wait. I promise, Buttercup.”

God, he is talking to Shay. The barista puts down my mug to help her coworker find something beneath the counter, and I will her to hurry. I don’t think I can handle listening to Professor Douche sweet-talk Shay.

“Nah, don’t be like that,” he croons. “We’re both so busy through midterms.” He hums and closes his eyes. I half expect him to reach down and adjust himself in front of the whole library. “Anything for you.” He chuckles. “I won’t even make you beg this time.”

Bile surges up my throat. Fuck it. Coffee isn’t worth this. They can keep the mug.

I turn on my heel, leave the kiosk, and push out of the library. And practically run into Shayleigh Jackson.

She steps back at the last second, saving us both from a head-on collision. “Easton, what are you doing on this side of campus?” She frowns. “Hey, are you okay?”

Jealousy is a giant drill twisting in my gut. “Fine. I was just getting some coffee.”

Her gaze drops to my empty hands just as the bubbly barista rushes out of the library with a steaming cup. “Mr. Connor, you forgot your coffee.”

I grimace as I accept it. “Right. Thanks so much.”

Shay snorts. “Rough night?”

“Not exactly.” I watch the girl head back in and see George pull the phone from his ear. I look back and forth between him and Shay. Is he already ending another call, or was he sweet-talking someone other than Shay?