Twisted Turnaround

Chapter 4

ANDREA

I feel like slapping him again. But I think better of it because if I start to hit this guy left and right, I'd become an assaulter. And I didn't need that on my record or my conscious yet. But I'm so angry at him. I'm annoyed and annoyed that he gets to have what he wanted all this time, even though I could've stopped it. I could have stopped him from approaching me and making a move on me, but I didn't. I could've stopped him from coming into my dorm room and then letting him coarse me into writing that article.

Really, Miles Watson was a mastermind.

And I was the idiot for falling for it.

But I wasn't just angry at myself like I should be; I'm angry at him. I know I should just ignore him and move on with my life, but I've never felt this much hatred toward someone. In those moments, I'm supposed to stay away, and yet here I am, cursing at him all over again.

"You must think you are some hotshot, huh?" I ask him incredulously, titling my head as I muster up all my anger and channel it into an attitude far better than anger itself. "Thinking that you are the greatest guy for not having to work hard to get recognized, but it means nothing."

"I mean," he says slowly, lips moving up in a familiar smirk as he brings the newspaper up. "Your words here really use a lot of emotion."

"Emotions of a girl who had just been sexed up," I retorted with a raise of my eyebrow. "See now that makes these words so much better."

"I seem to recall that you did in fact write those words from your heart," he says to me, hazel eyes meeting mine in a softness as opposed to my hardened ones. He moves his head closer to me, and then, like he is telling me a secret, he says softly, "And I would know; I was kissing your chest at that moment."

"Dick!" I shout out before realizing my voice was too loud and it could be heard next door. The door we were both standing right beside, which was wide open. No doubt someone had heard me shout out a profanity to the star player of their hockey team. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time it had happened. I turn my back against the door, and he follows my movement. I get angry all over ahah that he knows what I'm thinking and is quick to follow me. "You seriously think that what you did was okay?"

"No," he answers quickly, a flash of sentiment in his emotions before his cocky demeanor returns. "But watching you act this fiesty is pretty entertaining."

I step away from him, feeling my shoulder way too heavy for my liking. But I take my anger and turn away from him. "Go to hell," I bite out as I start to walk toward the end of the hallway.

"See, with the beautiful words on this page," he retorts so quickly that he started right after I had said the last word, "I think I'm in heaven." Now I'm even more angry than I'd ever been. I don't know how he can sound so cocky even though his voice is softened. He is charming. There is a certain charm that stays with him all the time. It's something that every girl notices, and I guess I had fallen for it. So now I was paying for it.

Instead of letting the anger get to me, I breathe out of my nose and continue to walk. There's a pause from behind me, and as I progress through the hallway, I feel movements behind me. I'm tempted to turn around and yell at him, but I withhold myself. I don't need to waste my energy on him. I'm suddenly not angry anymore but rather so sad that I don't even know how my mood could change this fast. I didn't like how much I was feeling though, so I picked up my pace.

But he is quick and steady on his strides as well, so after ten seconds, I can feel him beside me. And how could I not? His shoulders were very big, and he was tall enough to tower over anyone who was even above average height. His foot shows up in my peripheral vision and I get a whiff of the scent of his cologne. But I avert my gaze and continue my way out of the hallway and down the stairs.