Georgia handed me my coffee with a quick nod, and I took a long sip, savoring the caffeine rush. The chatter in the coffee shop slowly resumed as people went back to their own business.
Despite my bravado, Hannah's words lingered in my mind. She was right about one thing: I did tend to think the world revolved around me. But why should I care what some random girl thought? I shrugged off the nagging feeling and focused on the rest of my day.
Later, as I walked across campus to my next class, I couldn't shake the encounter. Hannah was different from anyone I'd ever met—unafraid to challenge me, unwilling to back down. It was infuriating and intriguing at the same time.
The week continued in its usual pattern. Classes, work, occasional run-ins with Hannah where we exchanged cold glares but kept our distance. It was a strange, uneasy truce.
One evening, as I was closing up at the bar, I saw Hannah sitting alone at a corner table, her face illuminated by the glow of her laptop. She looked stressed, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. I hesitated, then grabbed two beers and walked over.
"Mind if I join you?" I asked, holding out one of the beers.
She looked up, surprised, then sighed. "Sure, why not."
I sat down and handed her the beer. "Rough day?"
"You could say that," she replied, taking a sip. "I'm buried in assignments, and my group project partners are useless."
"Sounds familiar," I said with a chuckle. "Mind if I help?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're offering to help me?"
"Don't get used to it," I said, smirking. "Just figured you could use a hand."
She nodded slowly. "Alright. Thanks."
We spent the next couple of hours working on her project, the initial tension slowly dissolving as we found common ground. For the first time, I saw a different side of Hannah—one that was passionate about her studies, determined, and surprisingly funny.
As we wrapped up, she looked at me with a hint of a smile. "Maybe you're not as big of a douchebag as I thought."
"Thanks, I guess," I said, grinning. "You're not so bad yourself."
She laughed softly. "Don't push it, Terry."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied, raising my beer in a mock toast.
As we parted ways that night, I couldn't help but feel that maybe things were starting to change. Maybe, just maybe, we could move past the animosity and find some sort of middle ground. It was a small step, but it was a start.