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“You really need to ask me that?” she snaps.
“Why? I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
“Not bullying someone doesn’t make you good.” Now she sounds exasperated.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Fair enough. But I haven’t done anything to offend you.”
“Apart from telling me I have no artistry or skills?”
“That was the truth.” I confess I’m a bit bewildered. “I’m fey. I can’t lie very well.”
“Nice excuse for your meanness,” she says.
“Never said I was a saint, but Mia… why exactly do you hate me so much?”
“After the video thing you pulled, do you think you can pretend not to know?”
“Again with the video. What video?” I throw my hands up. “Kraish.”
She stares at me. “The video of the fae tattoo on my back that you shared with everyone.”
“I didn’t share any damn video. Why would I?”
She shrugs, her face tight with discomfort. “How should I know. For laughs?”
I brace my hands on my desk and I swear it’s humming again. “I can’t get any net on my phone.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m too magical. Gadgets get fried when I touch them most of the time.”
“Well, you… You could easily have asked one of your minions to do it for you,” she mutters.
“But I didn’t. Why would I kiss you and then do something like that?”
She huffs. “Because you were annoyed with me? Because you’re an ass?”
“I was annoyed,” I admit. “And I am an ass. But I didn’t share any video. Believe me.”
“And what if I don’t? I’ve seen you bully people, remember? That day when I found you torturing a girl in the woods?”
“I wasn’t torturing her.” I think about that. “Not technically.”
She sighs. “Why did you take her photo? Apart from wanting to hurt her.”
“What makes you think I had any other motivation? I’m an asshole, as you just said. That’s what you think and why are we discussing this now?”
“You said to me, then, that you thought the photo would show you the way, but that you…”
“I am still lost,” I whisper. “And that wasn’t… what it looked like.” I rub both hands over my face. The need to touch her is frying my brain. “Why am I explaining myself over this again?”
“Because I don’t trust you? Because I was there?”
“Mia, that has nothing to do with this. I’m telling you, I didn’t share any video.”
“Well, I don’t believe you,” she says, mouth twisting, and with that, she grabs her things and storms out of my room.
What’s with this girl and dramatic exits? For that matter, what’s with this girl and the pain in my chest every time she walks out?
