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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"I love her and it is the beginning of everything." –F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Chapter 47 <—————————————>
Maggie
Luke was being weird.
Not the 'I'm a moody prick' kind of weird, but a stone-cold, ready to swing on the first thing in sight, fuck off, type of weird.
I studied him over. His attention was solely on his plate, despite barely even touching it ever since we sat down for dinner.
I couldn't pinpoint much. He'd been fine before I went into the shower. I couldn't think of anything that could have changed it so soon.
I pulled on a smile to ease the tension. "So," I started, placing my fork back down. "Any thoughts about the chicken? I made sure to throw a little spider or two in there for you. Just how you like it."
He shrugged, his hardened jaw unlocking to say, "It's fine."
Okay....
My eyes fell to my glass of soda before attempting, "Got any ridiculously stupid theories for the night? I have one."
Another shrug. His jaw tightened back into place as he shoved pieces of chicken around with a fork, his eyes set downcast.
"Okay, uh..." I thought it over for a second, crossing one of my legs under me. "I think—"
His fork dropped down to the plate, the clattering sound bouncing off of the walls. My eyes jerked up to him in confusion.
Slowly, I placed my own down. "What crawled up your ass and died?"
Luke ran a hand down his face, a scoff following. I raised my brow, but before I could further my questions, he was getting up.
His back turned to me as he scraped what was left of dinner into the trash, then returned to the sink. The sound of the water running was the only audible thing in the house, right now.
I didn't want to fight with him, again, and I'd much rather get the problem out of the way, right here and now. Whatever it may be.
I stood too, and once I got to the other side of the sink, I cast him a side eye of curiosity.
The anger in his expression was undeniable. Even the way he was washing the dish was too aggressive.
My eyes lowered to the plate. "Is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong," he repeated under his breath, chuckling. "You tell me, Maggie."
"If you have something to get off of your chest, then just do it. I don't want to fight with you." I took a step closer so that our sides were grazing. "But, don't keep up with this subliminal bullshit."
