Page 125 of Poison Aches
Another thing about this position, this is the only time we dismiss the rest of the world.
It just sort of happened after she turned thirteen and I was unable to reconcile the mess in my head… the mess being her.
“Why have you been hiding from me?” I suddenly ask. I already have an idea. After all, I had that tidbit of info tortured out of a man.
“I’m not hiding.”
“Angel.”
“Emmett, you already know why.”
“Because I rejected you?”
A silent wince escapes her lips and then she tries to pull away, but I’m not having it.
“You must think this is very amusing, huh?” she seethes.
“I’m not laughing.”
“Do you ever?”
“Of the many things wrong with me, laughing at you is the one thing I’d end entire civilizations for.”
She grows still at my words, then she looks up at me.
“Stop that.”
I fall silent, seeing the emotions that swim in her eyes.
“I guess if you’ve been watching me all these years, you already know what I’ve been up to then,” she says softly.
It’s not a question. She knows I know.
“I thought you’d give up,” I state to which I earn a glare, but I don’t care. “You should’ve given up.”
She tilts her head to the left, studying me. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“But I didn’t, what does that mean for you?”
I smile.
Angel is perceptive. She knows how to connect the dots and how to navigate my intentions from my actions, a thing no one can do expertly. Not even the people I’ve called friends for most of my life.
“Why do you think I’ll have any benefit in your journey to finally being accepted?”
“For the sake of a more productive conversation, do your best not to treat me like a game.”
At this, I laugh.
She glares even more intensely.
“You’ve grown claws,” I mutter as I try not shift the seat. I have to stay still.
“And sharp teeth.”
“Again, I’d pay good money…” I mutter, watching her.
