► in which a boy tries not to be a villain, and a girl tries not to be innocent. ◄
In this fickle universe, you are marked from birth as either a hero, villain, or innocent.
Even the doctors don't know your result, and it doesn't sh...
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O R I O N is a natural charmer. He breezes his way past security, inventing a very convincing story allowing us to get through. I am surprised that around me he seems to be more genuine, dropping that mask almost in relief. We don't even know each other that well, but I feel that he sees something in me that I don't.
After all, he knows now from our conversation in the car that I am an innocent, so why would I be valuable to him? He didn't even seem to be fazed by that revelation, didn't even comment on it.
I can't help wondering, in slight trepidation, what his mark is. Although I am almost sure it is hero, what if he is a villain? What if everything he is doing is going to lead up to a climax of brutal betrayal? He must know I am too smart for that, right? I can see right through his façade...
Focus, River, his voice, tinged with amusement says in my head. I don't know what you're thinking about, but you're not paying attention.
Sorry, I reply. Where are we going?
As I told you before, he begins. My mother's office. Gina at the desk said she's in a meeting so we can just wait there until she's done.
"Perfect timing," I mumble out loud."It's almost like...nevermind, I'm just being paranoid."
"Hey," his voice is soft and he stops walking, turning towards me. "This isn't a trap. You don't have to worry about it. Besides...if there was anything going on...I'd keep you safe."
Resisting the urge to blush, I chuckle. "With your amazing telepathy powers? Would you creep them out to death?"
"Maybe," he smiles back. "I can be pretty creepy."
I laugh, reaching for the door handle just as he does, and our fingers brush. I pull back, watching his face, but he continues as if nothing happened and opens the door.
The office is very tidy, and everything is neatly organized and labeled. I can already tell that his mother is meticulously detailed about everything.
"Wow, we'd better make sure to fix everything before she comes back when we're done," I tell Orion.
"Oh yeah, this place is always in top shape. My mom is kind of a perfectionist," he replies, swiftly typing the password on the computer.
"How do you know her password?" I ask out of curiosity. It seems strange to me that her son would know her security password for her company. I watched his hands as he clicks each letter, noting what seems to be traces of scars along his palms and wrists. But not self-harm scars, these are different. Almost like...
