Our Last Dance

Chapter 3

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I wasn't going to let him ruin my day. I was going to be calm, patient, and handle this like the adult I am.

"Okay, look here Mister," I began, stepping closer to him. "Whatever happened yesterday, you need to forget about it. Acting like this is immature and stupid."

I extended my hand for him to shake, forcing a smile. Dad would be proud of my attempt at diplomacy.

He looked at me with a hint of amusement, then glanced down at my hand. His lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile, but he didn't take my hand.

"Are you the same psychotic little woman I talked to yesterday?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and chuckling.

I stared at him, dumbfounded and slightly angry. Well, there goes my good mood, thanks to this motherfucker.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Don't freak out, I repeated in my head. When I opened my eyes again, I realized it didn't help much. His snort snapped me back to reality.

"You know," he began, his smirk evident in his tone, "calming yourself down and pretending to make peace with me might not work so well when I can read your thoughts so easily."

I gritted my teeth. This guy was really pushing my buttons.

Without hesitation, I stepped towards him, surprising even myself with my speed. His smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered.

"Let me make this clear, Mr. Psycho," I said through clenched teeth, my fists tightening at my sides. "If you're looking for someone to entertain your pathetic ass this semester, it's not going to be me. I've had enough of your childish, antiquated ways."

I glared at him, feeling the tension radiating between us. My knuckles were probably turning white from how tightly I was clenching my fists.

"I'm done dealing with you," I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. "I've told you multiple times to stop bothering me because I fucking don't like it, but you keep crossing my boundaries. News fucking flash: this is not some movie where you can cross lines just because it makes you feel better, or maybe just because you're a jerk."

I was breathing heavily by now, my chest heaving with each inhale. His smirk vanished, replaced by a look of surprise and perhaps a hint of concern.

"Layla," he said, his voice softer now, with raised eyebrows. He took a step back, as if realizing the gravity of the situation.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He took a few more steps back, his eyes wide as he looked at me. "I didn't think it was that serious. I just found you interesting and wanted to strike up a conversation with you, so I came over."

He paused, his expression earnest now. "But I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You can ignore me now."

I felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly overshadowed by my anger. I wasn't the one at fault here, so why the hell was I feeling guilty?

"This is not some crap movie where the main character harasses the girl and gets to be her friend just because he wanted to be her friend," I accused, pointing a finger at him. "This is reality, not some shitty story. And you aren't in any other story. You're getting on my nerves, and I'm trying my best to be civil about it. But you're not worth it, okay?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Why was I being so rude? I'm not someone who insults people without reason, but the way he talked to me just made me lose my temper. I knew it wasn't fair, I was being too mean, but I couldn't calm down.