I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE FUNNY | ✓

▬ 22: I might be a sadist, but so are you

           It proves surprisingly difficult to pick things from the shelves of Barua's Market with my left hand. I fumble much more than I should. But I've got enough experience to know not to carry anything heavy after a bite; it'll push all the blood out.

I check the short shopping list Iya texted me for the next item only to nearly drop my phone when Miles speaks right beside me. 'Are you okay?'

My heart skips, then compresses. Don't sneak up on me like that, is what I almost say, but it's far more words than he deserves from me right now. Instead, I chuck a bag of long-grained white rice into the basket without looking up. 'Why?'

'You... ran out of maths...'

'There was a wasp.'

Deciding to ignore his presence, I continue down the aisle without stepping around him and he has to stumble back to avoid collision. But at the mouth, he roots his New Balances to the floor to block the exit.

'No, there weren't.' He attempts a matter-of-fact tone but the contempt of catching me in an obvious lie seeps into his voice.

With my fingernails dug into my palm, I lift my gaze up to him. His forehead is glossy with sweat, cheeks still flushed, and his hoodie is tied around his hips which leaves the strap of his bag to chafe against his neck. The tawny skin there is already reddening.

I take his contempt and evolve it into unfiltered hostility. 'How was football?'

Miles drops his eyes to the floor. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' Despite the lack of reciprocity, I continue to glare. 'I know I'm poor but I think I can survive without the tenner.'

I suck my teeth and wake up my cell to check the list. Wedging past Miles, I shake my head at myself. What am I angry for? This isn't worth being angry about. I don't care enough to be angry. 

'It's your grade. It's got nothin to do with me. I didn't wanna do this in the first place.'

But he follows me to the next aisle where I fetch a carton of almond milk. In misplaced frustration, I knock the bite against the shelf bracket and wince.

A bitten curse has barely seethed through my teeth before he's right at my side. 'Are you okay?'

'Yes.' As subtly as possible, I look down. Blood is seeping into the white sleeve of my uniform. God's sake. I capture his gaze again to stop him from noticing it too. 'And even if I wasn't, it's honestly none of your business. You can quit actin like you care.'

Contrary to expectation, Miles doesn't look away. His black eyes pour unabashedly into my equally dark ones. 'I do care.'

The needle holes in my skin from my callow thread have scabbed. Like a child, I can't resist the urge to pick at them.

It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself that I don't want anything between us and that in either case, I'm better out of it... I've already threaded a new needle. Because even when I know he doesn't, I want him to care. I want to rip up my sleeve and show him and for him to care enough not to leave. I want him to care enough to tell Tristan and Lysander to piss off. I want him to care enough for me to surpass social rank in his priorities.

But he doesn't.

Nonetheless, I want to sew us together with a thousand stitches, if only to have the opportunity to rip the string out myself this time and leave us equally bloody, a sadistic need to hurt him as he hurts me. It slithers in my stomach.