Crushing on Royalty (The Cuttings #1) [To Be Reconstructed]

Chapter 29: Something Called Love

"WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN?"

I banged hard on the door, dropping my books and bag carelessly onto the cold floor. "Come on! Open up! Open up! OPEN UP!"

I heard a sigh from behind. I turned around seeing Michael look around the ceiling for a vent, just like before. When he found one, he looked at me immediately, silently telling me what he thought we should do.

Oh no. Not again.

When I turned my back on him and started kicking the door, I heard him say, "Come on, Keller. If you really want to get out of here, you have to get up on me and open the vent."

"Last time didn't work, now you think this time it will?" I countered, squinting my eyes at him.

For a moment, everything went silent except for the insanely loud and annoying whir of the vent up the ceiling, hidden a bit from the boxes of Arm and Hammer with Oxy. Then, as I was sure that he wouldn't speak anymore, I turned back around and hammered on the door loudly, shouting.

Michael suddenly called out. "Yeah, I do. And I know I can get out of here with you."

Imagine a bull with sharp horns and a nose coming up with steam through its nostrils. That was the picture you ought to see me look like at that moment.

"Seriously?" I boomed, flailing my arms in the air out of sheer frustration and anger. "Is this some kind of crazy-ass, sick joke you're trying to pull, Cutting?" I demanded, glaring at him.

"I'm not trying to 'pull' anything!" he boomed, looking annoyed and somewhat offended.

What did he have to act all offended for?

"You lying bastard!" I accused.

He gaped. "I'm not lying!"

"Well, you are! You wouldn't know that I knew you were lying if you thought your lie would work on me, now, would you?"

Michael and I both looked kind of confused about that because I was literally rambling, but GOD, why did he always have to act like an ass? Why did he always have to be such a jerk when he wanted to be?

"You're a hypocrite. You're a lying hypocrite."

Michael stomped toward my direction and zoomed his face close to my own. "We both made a mistake, Keller," he clarified, acting all calm and collected while I was already furiously hysterical. "We both had a bloody row and a massive misunderstanding. Think about that."

I pushed him away, stomping my foot and crossing my arms huffily. "Why do you have to always, always make me feel like I'm such a little kid? Don't you patronize me, Michael."

"I'm not patronizing you," Michael bit off, clenching and unclenching his fists to release his anger and frustration toward me. "You're plainly acting childish."

I gaped in shock, then all I saw was red. Red, red, red. Why, you --!" I grabbed the janitor's items neatly stacked on the shelf beside me, throwing one bottle of detergent and toilet cleaner after the other.

Unfortunately, Michael was too fast for me. He ducked, he jumped to the side, he swatted the bottles away like he was frigging Spider-Man, for crying out loud. And the room wasn't even that big. This got me angrier, so I looked for something hard, and I saw a -- oh, great. I was holding a flyswatter.

Well. I could swat this fly in front of me, couldn't I? Of course.

"I'll smack you," I growled, marching toward him. I raised my flyswatter and swatted his arm, hips, thighs, and head. I was actually feeling pretty good -- right until Michael held my wrists in a vise-like grip, looking at me with mad silver eyes.