The pain from our fight is finally settling in; my back is aching, while my bottom lip feels incredibly sore like someone trampled all over it.
I don't regret it though; that fight was the most alive I've felt in a long time. My hands on her like that, it was absolutely exhilarating. The feeling of having her full attention like that was absolutely indescribable.
“Look what you've done,” Adaline says in an annoyed tone, shaking her head at me.
“Me? you're the one who started it yesterday.”
Her eyes narrow at my words and she looks bewildered. She kicked me out, she was the one who came to the rescue of that girl and then called me unlovable.Little shit.
“You're so delusional. You think this is my fault?” She looks furious, flailing her hands around frantically.
“Well, if you hadn't kicked me out of your house—”
She interrupts me. “You would still find a reason to fuck with me. You've been doing it for the last five years.”
Oh yeah? Like she hasn't been playing this game with me the last few years either.
“Oh, please. Don't act like you haven't given it back to me just as good,” I respond, rolling my eyes so hard that they've basically travelled to the back of my head.
“Yeah, I have,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair, “but I didn't start it.”
The sheer exhaustion on her face sends me into a frenzy of some sorts. She isn't looking for an argument with that statement, she's just expressing how tired she is.
I can't refute her statement; I really can't. “No, you didn't.”
I started this. Twelve-year-old Juliette who was angry at her woman-beating father, started this.
Deep down I know I'm cruel. I've been horrible, but I can't stop, not when it's the only thing that gives me any sort of relief and the only way I can have even an ounce of her attention.
Yes, it started as a way to get back at my father, but somewhere along the way, it became a routine, something for me and only me.
I run my hand through my hair and stare up at the clock on the wall, watching the minutes slowly pass by as silence engulfs the room.
It feels like eternity when I look up, but only twenty minutes have gone by. I know I should just go on my phone and stay silent for the rest of our time, but I can't.
“You’re still tutoring me, right?” The question comes out meek.
Her gaze slices to me. “Obviously. I still need that letter sent.”
I smile inwardly at that. Even if she looks annoyed, she’s still tutoring me. She’s going to have to tutor me till our final exams and that gives me plenty of time to keep messing with her.
“Why are you so obsessed with Oxford anyway?”Why do I care?
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” She deadpans.
I don’t even bother refuting her statement. “Because I enjoy bothering you. Now, answer my question.”
In the usual Adaline fashion, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she puts her middle finger up at me.Very mature.
“Would it kill you to be mature for once?” I scoff out, irritated.
She nods in response, smiling sarcastically. “Yes, it would.”
She is so irritating; so jarring. Anything I say, no matter what it is, she has to combat it. Then again, we literally just fought like thirty minutes ago, maybe her behaviour is warranted.
“Can’t even answer a simple question,” I mutter under my breath, annoyed.
“This is coming from you?” She scoffs out loudly.
