Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

“What do you mean?”
I risk a glance.
His blue eyes are focused on the course and his mouth is twisted
in a smirk. “You’ll never qualify,” he says. “You’re a nothos. You can’t
keep up.”
Who is he to tell me what I can and can’t do? He doesn’t know
me. Cute boy or not, I can beat his tail.
“I’m keeping up with you,” I snap.
“Only because I’m letting you.”
His expression doesn’t change and he doesn’t look away from
the course, but I can tell he’s laughing at me. I really can’t stand it
when people laugh at me.
I feel a little surge of extra energy—adrenaline—and pick up my
pace.
“When the race is over,” I say, letting his taunts get the better of
me, “you can let me know how it feels to be beat by a nothos.”
That hits home. His anger doesn’t show on his face, but his
hands ball into fists and his movement becomes a little tighter.
“That,” he says through clearly clenched teeth, “will never
happen.”
What happened to the super sweet guy I met on the beach? This
is more like the guy Nicole warned me about. “Were you possessed
by the Furies after we met this morning? Or did I just catch you off
guard before you’d had your jerk juice?”
“This morning,” he snaps, “I didn’t know who you were.”
“Oh,” I say, “you’re only nice to strangers. Now that we’re
acquainted you have to be rude. Got it.”
“If I were being rude,” he said, his voice cold and hard, “you
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