𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 | 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗇

Chapter Thirteen

"What are you so mad for?"

She kept her eyes on the pages, and she shook her head softly, her lips pursed together. "Nothing. Just reading."

Yeah right, he thought. It was always one thing after another. He sighed, clearing his throat as he leaned against the dresser. "Yes, there is. You've been giving me the cold shoulder all morning."

A scoff left her lips, and she sat the book down on her lap. "Really? I'm surprised you even noticed. Why don't you run along to class now and suck everybody's dick. God, knows they've been getting more than I have lately." She sneered, grabbing her book again. It took a lot of restraint for her to not throw it at his head.

His eyes widened in surprise, her attitude throwing him completely off guard. "Okay, what the hell is going on? You're acting like a bitch." He groaned, setting down his studies rather loudly.

The restraint was now gone, and he ducked as her book came flying toward his face. "I'm acting like a bitch? You've been ignoring me almost all week! All you've talked about is this fucking test and have completely ignored me!" She snapped, sitting up as she glared at him.

His hands balled up into fists, his face twisted in shock from her words. Was she really that upset? Even he thought that was ridiculous. "Are you serious?" He asked in disbelief. "I've not been ignoring you, Anastasia. I've been busy working my ass off trying to end the fucking world for you, remember?" He spat, and she rolled her eyes in response.

"Well, do you have to be such a suck up?" She crossed her arms. "If they want you to take the test then fine, but do you really have to spend every second trying to gain their approval? You've hardly touched me."

His shook his head in amusement, this conversation was uncalled for. "So, you're mad because I've not fucked you, is that it? Fine then, take off your shorts." He went to unbuckle his pants, but Ana shoved a blanket on top of herself.

"No." She denied in disgust. "I'm not in the mood."

He scoffed; what a load of shit that was. "Seriously?" He furrowed his brows. "You just said-"

"I don't care." She bit. "I said I'm not in the mood, now go to fucking class."

Michael was stunned at her bitterness, completely baffled as to why she was so angry. He understood that he had been busy as of late, but it wasn't like he was out partying all night long. This was a part of the plan, his ultimate plan to protect Anastasia from the cruel evils of the world. He knew she understood it, that's why they were there in the first place, so her bitchy attitude threw him off guard entirely.

He wanted to stay and argue with her, but he was running late to Behold's class and he didn't want to ruin the good streak he had with him. Sending her a cold glare, he turned and left the room, slamming the door rather loudly.

To outsiders, it would probably seem that they were unhappy, given that they did bicker almost constantly. But that was just the way they were, and in a way, it made things interesting.

She sat and pouted on the bed for quite some time, her mind reeling over their conversation. She wasn't in the wrong, was she? No, absolutely not. Michael was neglecting her, and he didn't even care. It made her feel like she was invisible to him also, and once, in the middle of the night, she thought that he had when he was casting spells and hardly acknowledged her. And that just couldn't do, and she was determined to make him acknowledge her. Not just to piss him off after calling her a bitch, but frankly, she was just wanting to finally have some fun in that God forsaken place.

About half an hour later, she knew Michael was in John Henry's class now. He'd be working extra hard to impress the man no doubt, and she decided to use that to her advantage.