When Perfect Meets Crazy

22 - I strongly suggest you start talking

"You are literally the worst person to stalk. You know that, right?" he whined. "You do the exact same boring things every single day. You're every parent's dream child. Live a little, will you?"

"Here's an idea," I snarled. "If I'm so boring, don't stalk me. Problem solved."

My reaction was over the top. I could feel it as soon as the words were out. My reply was excessively hostile. It wasn't like it was something new. He said that all the time. I was used to hearing it. I had no idea why I snapped this time. I wasn't even pissed. Something had just been off about him these past few days and it was starting to really irk me.

He rolled his eyes, flicking the suggestion off dismissively.

"You have the worst part-time job," he declared, looking very much bored out of his mind. "You know that, yeah? I mean, how much do you get paid to waste away in this library?"

I paused in the process of placing a book on birdwatching back on the appropriate shelf.

"Worst job?" I echoed. "You're one to talk, Mr Illegal Fighter."

"Shhhh!" He hissed, eyes widening.

He shiftily glanced left then right.

Like anyone would be in the bird section on a hot Tuesday afternoon.

I rolled my eyes, pushing the book into the proper slot.

"No one heard me. There's hardly anyone in the library to begin with."

My words didn't seem to provide any relief to him. He kept looking around, worriedly chewing on his lower lip.

I rolled my eyes exasperatedly.

If he was so worried about giving his secret away, he should work on his secret keeping abilities before worrying about the possibility of me, the queen of keeping her mouth shut, slipping up.

He sighed in relief, finally satisfied that no one was going to materialise to arrest him.

"It's a slow day," I needlessly pointed out, pushing the now empty cart out of the way so I could comfortably sit on the floor. "Why are you even here? You ghosted me for weeks. Why are you religiously showing up everyday now?"

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing me dubiously as I patted the space opposite me, gesturing for him to sit too.

With a grunt conveying his displeasure, he settled down with his legs stretched out to the side, pointedly sneering at my folded legs.

I rolled my eyes.

"My coworker wants your number," I stated.

He smirked, looking every inch an arrogant drunk-on-his-own-appeal teenage boy.

"You've been talking about me," he said.

I considered it my duty to humanity to bring him back down to earth.

"You hang around me five out of seven days in a week," I said flatly. "Of course, she'd ask questions."

He scowled.

"Don't worry, I told her nothing of your dirty secret. I led her to believe you're one of the students I tutor. One that needs special help." I smirked.

He scowled.

"You couldn't have come up with something else?"

"This was the most believable." I smiled innocently.

"Liar," he accused.

I shrugged, unperturbed.

"So?" I countered. "It doesn't matter. You have a girlfriend, don't you?"