Cold Hearted Bastard

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

I grudgingly pushed the grocery cart, practically leaning on it for support as I filtered my eyes on the lines of products. How hard is it to find dijon mustard? Honestly, maybe they don't stock a lot of it because who in their right mind likes Dijon mustard. My dad did. But him having a sound mind, well, that was up for debate.

My phone began vibrating in my handbag, and I reached in, fumbling through all the clutter. Glancing at the caller ID I groaned. Part of me wanted to press the ignore button but I knew I'd hear about it later from my dad if I did.

"Hello?" I asked, not even trying to mask my indifference and sound pleasant.

"Wynter, hi, It's Meredith, I need you to bring some beers and a bottle of Merlot please, also if you could find some sort of appetizer that would be great. We're having a special guest over later, so please cancel all your plans if you have. Thanks, doll, " The caller, my soon-to-be stepmother that is, said too cheerily and hung up. Clearly, she and my dad had communication issues. He was the one to ask me to stop at the grocery in the first place on my way home.

I literally drove two hours from my university's campus to come home, exhaustion hit me like a wave. She could have literally been a little more empathetic on the phone. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't half bad and it was hard not to like her but the fact that I had to share my dad with a stranger irked me ever so slightly. Especially because it has just been the two of us since I was born. But a year and a half later, she seemed to be growing on me. Slightly.

I rolled my eyes, putting my phone back in my bag, and started to push the cart again. My eyes felt heavy as I scanned the shelves. My body felt weak. Thankfully today was the last day of school for the semester because it had been a hard one. I only got five hours of sleep most nights and when I did get the sleep it was anxiety-filled, consisting of me tossing and turning, wondering what horrible experience I would have for the day to come.

Being a junior studying medicine was a game-changer. It was my second year and I still never got accustomed to my ever-changing schedule, the condescending looks of my lecturers, and the cold glass exterior of my peers.

Yes, I had made some friends in my first year, and it had been good. Up till it wasn't. This semester I had kept to myself. And as lonely as that sounds, I had made do. There was no choice for me really. Everyone had their cliques and my old friends didn't look my way once. Understandable though, I expected everyone to take Drew's side, they always did look up to him. Some snakes they were. I trusted them and let them walk all over me like a fool. I deserved it. I was too naive.

Sighing at the memories surfacing, I picked up the glass bottle of mustard, then placed it in the grocery cart. My wrists were aching and I quickly rolled them in a circle, trying to ease the pain. I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis at a young age. Strange because it mostly started later on in life but nope, I was a lucky one. Sarcasm, heavy. Every morning consisted of popping painkillers and hell it was getting worse.

I cranked my neck from side to side. I needed to hurry up and get out of here. My bed was calling me and not having seen it in three months was way too long. Just thinking about it my lids were getting heavier. Maybe I'd go get a massage later on this week too. I deserved it after the hell I had been through. But then again I did sign up to become a doctor. Every day I wondered if it was too late to back out.

Shit!

A loud bang erupted in front of me as I watched my grocery cart which I had released for like 2 seconds roll into the stacks of produce on my left. I cringed as glass jars fell off the shelves, tumbling onto the floor, their contents splashing everywhere.

I clenched my fists knowing that I'd have to pay for the what, ten, eleven broken jars? Oh crap, I was already sleep-deprived and hangry. Hungry and angry. My day was getting crappier by the second.

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, looking at the mess I had created on the floor and myself. I had two options, either run the hell out of the grocery, leave my cart here and hope nobody sees, or, option two, pay for the broken bottles and finish my grocery spree with half-stained pants. Option one was looking like a winner in my books. But of course, my subconscious-the same one that made me start wanting to help humanity by being in medicine in the first place- made me bend down and begin picking up glass shards. I didn't even know what I was going to do with them. I just couldn't leave a mess like that. What was I doing? I really had no clue.

"Excuse me, do you work here? Where's the liquor aisle?" A deep voice asked from somewhere behind me. I bit my tongue, trying to breathe away the anger already at its max peak.

"Do I look like I work here?" I snapped sarcastically as I turned slowly around to face the stranger. This day could not get worse. Scratch that because I believed in karma and I rather not wish my doomed fate closer than I was sure it already was. I blinked once, and then twice for good measure, taken aback. Yep, it just got worse. God, help me. I stood there not knowing how to react. God hadn't warned me that today of all days I was going to see one of the most attractive guys ever. To make matters worse, my face was most likely oily from the day, my mahogany hair was tied lazily on top of my head and I was in my crocs. Yes, I said crocs. The epitome of public embarrassment. I only wore them on days when I had Biology labs because it usually consisted of me being on my feet the entire day and I hadn't planned for a detour from there to home. Stupid Meredith for throwing these requests at me. She could have come to the grocery herself. I forced my attention back to the stranger, narrowing my eyes as the annoyance grew.

A chuckle escaped his lips as they turned up at the corners slightly. His electric blue eyes danced with amusement. "Sorry, but you're in what looked like a work uniform picking up broken glass shards, what was I supposed to think?"

I growled. Legit growled. I never growled at someone before in my life. What is wrong with you Wynter? I cursed myself suddenly feeling mortified. Looking down at my clothes I frowned, I was in loose-fitting slacks and a tee-shirt. Yes, it didn't scream sexy or whatever but I stopped caring about my appearance to men and others about a year ago. Comfort over class any day had become my motto. What was the point...I had become an asexual. A gray-A if you like. Me a year ago would be disgusted that I had let myself go but I was glad she didn't exist anymore.

"Firstly, I do not work here. Secondly, I had a shit day already. It's probably best you walk away and pretend you didn't see anything." I felt bad for a moment, letting out my anger at this poor innocent bystander. But he was here and it needed an out.

Instead, he smirked as if taunting me and brushed a lazy hand through his almond-colored, messy hair. A piece fell back into his face as he casually looked down the length of me.

I cleared my throat, "Can you be any more inconspicuous? My eyes are up here buddy."

That made him break out in laughter, his pearly whites showing face as he did. I hated that I found myself unable to stop looking but oh my god that jawline. Did I say something funny? No. So then why was he laughing?

I glared at him, waiting. Which just made him laugh even harder. He calmed himself down, boring me once again with those bright blue eyes. His gaze was too intimidating and I found myself breaking away from it.

He stepped closer towards me, avoiding the red splatters around his feet. I took a small step back, unsure of what he was doing.

"Listen," He began. He was so close that his minty breath tickled my face. "I was just looking at the mess you made on yourself. I was not checking you out, little girl."

Little girl? I was probably the same age as this guy, maybe a little younger. Who was he calling little girl? One thing I hated was being mamaguyed. Yes, I was shorter than average ranging at 5'6 but nothing else on my body hinted that I was younger than I actually was.

He stood back, my synapses on my cheek were going awol from the feel of his breath there, that stupid smirk was also still plastered on his face. What I would have done to slap it off. Clearly, he was enjoying my current situation more than I was. Obviously, he had nothing better to do. His eyes trailed down to my hands and I followed them.