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I cast a glance over my shoulder and study him for a moment.
What could she possibly see in him?
Manasseh wears his school uniform as well, complete with a blazer. His tie looks perfect and his shirt is buttoned up. His hair, longer than usual, is carefully styled to the side, a few strands brushing his forehead, and it doesn’t look messy, but quite the opposite. Manasseh radiates that “perfect guy” vibe, blonde hair, blue eyes that sometimes shift into shades of gray, which freak me out. He's usually careful to keep his inner monster concealed in public, but there are times when he snaps and when that happens, people get hurt.
Generally, Manasseh acts like the perfect student in front of teachers, and everyone at school seems to like him. He's truly in a top league, but it's all appearances. He wears a mask. And no, it's not the mask of the Crasnics that I've heard of. It's something entirely different, way scarier.
“Morning,” I mutter, far from enthusiastic.
“Morning, little piggy. Have you thought about my suggestion from last night?”
“Do I have a choice?” I roll my eyes at the sound of his diminutive nickname and remove my fingers from the edge of my uniform skirt. “Anyway, it's only been 7 hours since we last saw each other.”
“And that makes me wonder, which is shorter—my patience or your height?” Manasseh grabs my arm and pulls me away from the door, blocking my path with his solid frame.
“So, you're saying you'll keep my secret?”
“Yep…”
“But only if I agree.”
Manasseh shrugs and gives me an irritated innocent look.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because I can't!” I snap, and I can feel a few curious glances from the classroom. “To do certain things with you, if I don't feel it,” I confess quietly.
I hurry to cover my face with my hair, avoiding to be seen with Manasseh any more than I already was. I wouldn't want others to get the wrong impression about us.
“Then I have another idea that will take all your worries away,” his eyes gleam eerily.
“Another idea?! I don't even want to hear it,” I twist and try to walk around him, but Masse grabs my backpack and lifts me slightly, like a ragdoll.
“You haven't even heard what it's about,” he frowns, his arm creating a barrier by leaning against the door.
“Maybe I don't want to hear it,” I glance around anxiously, in case someone saw us.
“Maybe I'm also tired of hearing your pathetic excuses, and I'm going to stop playing this stupid game once and for all.” I know he’s talking about the USB, and I feel my blood freeze as his tone escalates.
Two girls walk by arm in arm, and I startle, caught off guard by Manasseh's raised voice. He notices he's drawn attention and immediately relaxes his furrowed brow, his face softening.
If this doesn't make him unreliable, then I'm not sure what else could convince me that Manasseh isn't who he seems to be.
“No,” now it's me gripping his arm, ready to agree to anything if it means keeping the secret. “I'm sorry, Masse! Tell me what you need, and I'm in.”
His gaze lingers on the spot where my fingers held onto his arm, and when our eyes meet, it's like I've hit a mental roadblock again. I pull back my hands and gently smooth down his shirt, ignoring the subtle grin he's trying to hide.
Damn it, Becca! Maybe you really are obsessed.
Love has blinded me.
“You think you're really clever, don't you, preacher's daughter?” He grabs my wrist, stopping me from compulsively fixing his shirt. “But I'll play pretend, just like you pretend not to notice my reactions to your actions. But don't take advantage of it, Becca. Don't use me, more than I'll allow.”
I'm totally lost now. He lost me after “just like you pretend not to notice my reactions to your actions.”
“Why would you even think that? Because I don’t...” I lift my gaze, and our eyes lock, his finger tracing an imaginary line over my wrist, tracing my veins.
