If Abigail and Nancy are two of three teachers assigned to teach algebra, which one of the following could be true of the assignment?

I read the question for the third time. Each time I read it, I swear I feel even more brain cells dying. Yet, I only have this one last question to answer until I finish this section and can reward myself with one of those delicious-looking cookies I had spotted when I ordered my chai latte.

I pop my pencil into the corner of my mouth and narrow my eyes at the question, hoping that if I focus enough, an answer will magically appear.

Inevitably, I do yet another sweep of the small coffee shop where I have been loitering for the last three hours. I was lucky to find such a cute and cozy place to study right across from the hotel. Jordan had to attend some meeting or whatnot and when I had decided to get in some more study hours, I was elated to find this funky coffee shop a short walk across the street.

Plush, overstuffed arm chairs- each covered in a different fabric- are dispersed into a bright pink room with small café tables and chairs squeezed into the empty spaces. Even so, the space doesn’t feel overwhelming or crowded. The walls are decorated with paintings from local artists in every genre imaginable, from bulldog watercolors to magazine collages. Light jazz music plays overhead and the muted conversations from the other patrons provide a relaxing soundtrack. I was more easily distracted when it was complete silence and found the buzz and humming energy around me invigorating. The playful chatter of the baristas and the smell of the coffee wafting from the small counter behind me reminds me that I am due for another cup soon.

Studying a painting on the wall near me of a quilled butterfly at least twenty feet tall, I replay the question in my head: If Abigail and Nancy are two of three teachers assigned to teach algebra, which one of the following could be true of the assignment?

A victorious smile tugs at my lips as I look back down at my book. B. The answer is B. A quick check into the back pages of my guide reveal that I solved it correctly. Thank you, butterfly.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice from above me asks, tempering the victory parade I was throwing for myself in my head.

I feel my entire body simultaneously freeze and kick into overdrive with a rush of excitement at the sound of Liam’s voice above me. Slowly, I let my eyes drag up to see him. Out of his usual uniform and dressed in dark denim jeans and a fitted, black T-shirt, I almost don't recognize him. His dark tattoos are on full display, and I greedily trail them from his forearms up to his large biceps until they disappear behind his sleeve.

It looks like he recently showered: his jet-black hair is still wet, thick, and slicked back, and his face is smooth from having just shaved. His steely grey eyes are looking down at me, obviously eager to see if I’ll move my bag and allow him the seat next to me on the overstuffed couch.

“Seriously, did you have a GPS installed in me while I was asleep?” I ask, grimacing internally when I realize how bitchy I sound, and annoyed at how I let Liam so easily get under my skin.

Chuckling, Liam moves my bag to the floor and sits down, ignoring my annoyance. “I saw the bookstore and I guessed you might be here. Remember, I spent six years during surveillance.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “People are predictable.”

Scoffing, I offer him a mock salute. “Aye, aye soldier. Glad to know Daphni is spending her money well, having her henchman stalk her little sister.”

Liam shakes his head as he crosses his arms across his broad chest. "First of all," he says, holding up his hand. "Not a soldier. I'm a Marine. And secondly, Daphni didn't send me here to stalk you.”

Slamming my book closed, I turn to look at him. “Then why are you here, Liam?”

He quirks his brow, obviously surprised by my question. “I wanted to see you, I guess.”

“Well, here I am,” I say, waving my hand down my body. “Same old, boring, predictable Gabby.”

Liam scowls at my sarcastic response. “Why do you always push everyone so far away?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, caught off guard by his blunt question.

“You have your jokes and your sarcasm to hide behind. Or you just don’t say anything at all and put on some fake smile. You finally tell your sister how you feel, but instead of using it to get closer to her, you push her farther away, then you run away with that little Jordan shit to avoid explaining to her how she upset you. God, who hurt you so badly that you cannot have one simple, honest conversation with anyone?”

I let his words sink in. Each syllable feels like a kick to my gut. When he finishes, he stares at me, passionate steel-grey eyes locked on me. I want to break, to tell him that’s not who I am. I don’t run away from my problems. But he’s right. And that just infuriates me even more. So I don’t break. Instead, I throw my books into my bag and blink away the tears. I jump out of my seat before whipping back around to face him, still sitting on the couch.

“How dare you? I was honest with you. I put myself out there and you shut me down,” I tell him, my voice just above a whisper. I don’t let my voice crack, don’t let him hear how close I am to utterly falling apart. Instead, I rush out the door and onto the sidewalk. I take a deep gulp of air and close my eyes, willing myself to breathe again.

The ding of the bell attached to the store’s door goes off and I see Liam. I open my mouth to tell him to leave when he takes two steps to close the distance between us and pulls me to him. Within seconds, his mouth is on mine as he possesses me wholly with his kiss. It’s a passionate assault as his mouth claims mine. My mind screams at my body to resist, but it’s pointless. I melt into him, open my mouth, and allow him to kiss me deeper, own me even more. I tug at his shirt and pull him closer, longing to feel his hard angles against me. After what feels like forever in the span of a single minute, we break apart and Liam drops his forehead to rest against mine, each of us sucking in the other’s breath.

I pull back to look at Liam. His grey eyes appear to have changed color; they are darker, more feral, as they watch me in return.

“What do you want from me, Liam?” I ask, my breath ragged.

Raking his fingers through his thick, black hair, he looks at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Can’t you see, Gabby? I want you.”

I take a deep, steadying breath in a pathetic attempt to calm my racing heart. I want him, too. I know in my bones that I want him. Could I do it? Could I let myself fall?

As I take another deep breath, I see a flash of bright blue out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to see Daphni, across the street, watching us. I look at Liam, then back at Daphni. She had been watching us. Had she sent Liam here to distract me? To get me away from Jordan? Would she do that to me?

I let out a bitter chuckle as I realize that, of course, that is entirely something my sister would do. Liam watches me as my mood suddenly changes. Confused, he looks across the street and, seeing Daphni, realizes I’ve seen through their little scheme. He takes a step toward me.

“Gabby, this isn’t—”

Before he can finish, I take a bold step toward him, my palm connecting with his cheek as I slap him. In truth, the slap likely hurt my hand more than it hurt him, but it felt cathartic to thrust all my anger into my hand and see the look of surprise on his face.

“You are the worst kind of coward, Liam. Do you do everything Daphni tells you to do? Oh my God, how can you play with someone like that, Liam? How could you do that to me?”

I refuse to let him see a single teardrop fall, so I do what I do best, and what Liam had so aptly called me out on just five minutes ago: I run.