Fearless Beings

Chapter 28

Mia's POV:
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"What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me?! Me?" the boy I'm convinced I have a crush on shouts, sounding exasperated.

Alright. Understatement of the century.

He is fuming.

I throw my hand in the air, ready to throw a tantrum. "Yes, you. What the hell did Megan tell you?"

He scoffs, glaring at me. "What you should have."

I suck in a breath. If she told him anything about us, she's literally violating our laws. It'll result in her execution. Not that I didn't pass through moments where I'd be dying just to vent it all out on Tom.

Oh, you know, Thomas. It wasn't actually a coincidence when we met in that Godforsaken ice cream parlor. I'm here to kill you. Literally. Haha, funny right?

Yeah, it doesn't sound so good when said out loud. Believe me.

I pout at Tom, shuffling my feet on the floor. "What did she tell you?"

It's his turn to throw his hands in the air, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You knew!"

"Knew what?"

He seems to think about it. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest to him when he says, "About my mum, Mia. Why didn't you tell me? You were sitting right in front of me, laughing with me and small talking me--"

I hold my hands up in the air, taking a step back from him. "Woah. What are you taking about?"

His face flushes pink, and a vein in his neck bulges out. "My mother, Mia! What part of mother is too difficult for your manipulative mind to comprehend?"

I blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Excuse me?" I all but yell.

He purses his mouth into a thin, white line. "Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have called you manipulative."

"You think?"

"Shut up," he says, getting serious again. "Don't make me the bad guy; you're the one who were lying to me all this time."

He's still standing on his front porch, leaning against the front door's frame. He wouldn't let me in. Rude, I know. But he says, and I quote, "I have my reasons."

I sit down on the grass and hesitantly pat the spot near me. Tom eyes it warily before he heaves a sigh and sits down, shoving an irritated scowl my way.

"Don't you feel guilty?" he asks.

"Well," I start. "Technically, I don't know what I did that was so wrong--or rather what I didn't do-- to make you this pissed at me. But I doubt I'll feel guilty even when you stop beating around the bush and tell me what did the devil's offspring tell you."

"She's not my mum," he finally murmurs. And I swear I can see his eyes getting glassy.

"Who isn't?" I ask tentatively.

He throws a look over his shoulder and then whispers, "We probably shouldn't talk about this... here."

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