Zamzar

Please, master, teach me how to bullshit.”

Oh.” He inches farther away. “Uh. Thanks for the offer, but…uh, yeah, I don’t drink coffee.”

I stare at the coffee cup in his hand

I can’t remember her name. Probably because I’ve never bothered to ask for it. She’s cute, though. A helluva lot cuter than I realized. Pretty face, dark hair, smokin’ body—shit, how have I never noticed that body before?

But I’m noticing now. Skinny jeans cling to a round, perky ass that just screams “squeeze me,” and her V-neck sweater hugs a seriously impressive rack. I don’t have time to admire either of those appealing visuals because she catches me staring and a frown touches her mouth.