Maggie Norris and Luke Vaudest come with attitudes of stone-cold, rude, sarcastic snakes. Every single time the pair have clashed, it has never ended up being a good thing. The two are more than fine with never crossing paths, again.
Until Maggie d...
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"Love is more than a noun – it is a verb; it is more than a feeling – it is caring, sharing, helping, sacrificing." – William Arthur Ward ————————————————————
Chapter 33 <—————————————>
Maggie
I was still a deer caught in headlights.
"I'll give you five seconds, before I find my own way in," Luke threatened, his voice barely holding onto what little patience he did have. "Pick one."
I heard his counting, but my legs remained still. If I opened the window, he'd see everything. If I didn't, then he'd surely live up to his word, and see everything, anyway.
It was a losing battle.
I caught glimpses of my neck in the mirror as I passed it. It was just as bad as I thought, the skin already bruised and blue. The man's handprint remained there as well.
Sucking in a breath, I slowed my steps in front of the window, and pulled the curtain away. Luke was standing there, sporting his casual scowl.
With a sigh, I opened the window just enough to let him in.
I jerked around as quick as I could, my hand finding the clip in my hair to let it fall to my shoulders. My cut was short, so it did little to cover the marks along my neck, but it was better than nothing.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, quietly.
I heard his feet land on the floor, then the window get shut behind him. "I wasn't letting you ditch me on a movie night."
"I wasn't ditching you," I mumbled, concentrating on my bag. I didn't have enough time to hide it, so I needed to add another lie to the list.
"Yeah, well you didn't answer my call. You let it ring even though I know you saw it," he acknowledged, voice agitated. "And, your texts. They were weird as shit."
I swung my head down, embracing the strands that hit my face.
Leave. Please leave, Luke. "How so?"
"They were all short and choppy." I heard him come to my side. "You wouldn't have said something as simple as that. You would have texted me all of the details, as gory and disgusting as they would be, and...and..." His voice fell until it stopped altogether.
I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. "Hey," he called out. "Why aren't you looking at me?"
I tried to cough up an explanation, but it wasn't possible. My throat ached, and the longer he stared at me, the more the pain multiplied, but not in the same sense.
"I'm sick," I forced out in a squeak. "You're going to make fun of my pink eye. I—"
