𝖠𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗑𝗂𝖺 | 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗇

Chapter Ten

"I think she likes you."

It wasn't that he wasn't angry at her, because he was, but he was more angry at himself. Angry because he wasn't going to do a thing about her being gone, or for the words she said.  He didn't want to kill her and make a public showing of it. He just wanted to continue as was, which was not settling well with him.

If it had been anyone else who said those things, they would of been dead. No question about it. But why not her? As much as he disliked her, he was becoming used to her being there. Being around. It was a routine, and Michael's life was nothing but a routine. When she was gone, he didn't do hardly nothing but stand around. He sat alone in the garden with his thoughts, wondering where she was and how much he hated himself.

He knew there was no part of him that actually liked her, but he didn't like change, and was getting used to her presence. He liked the games they played. He was the cat and she was the mouse, at least that's how he saw it. Sure, he'd up his antics with him a bit more for snapping at him, but he wasn't going to do anything. It made him feel embarrassed, like it would make him look small.

He arrived at work almost an hour early that Friday morning, waiting in his car for her to arrive. And when her silver impala pulled in, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Being so angry at himself made him forgot about last week, how different she seemed that Friday morning, but it all came rushing back to him when he saw her face. His face visibly changed, because of just how severely hers had. Her complexion was ten shades paler, and she had that same glum expression, but it was more intense. She looked extremely upset.

She carried a black bag in her hand, a grocery bag, it seemed, while her purse sat in the other. Everyone knew what his vehicle was, and he cringed when she looked directly at it. Luckily, his windows were tinted as black as the night, and she quickly averted her eyes and made her way inside. He practically jumped out of his vehicle to follow her, trying to decide just how he was going to torture her today.

He was only ever used to being angry, and his curiosity with her always felt dismissed, because she never gave him anything to go off of. He shook off whatever he felt at seeing her distress, and put on a smirk as he trailed behind her. It would be a good day.

"Garner!" He called, staring at the back of her head with a plastered smirk. "Miss me?" He was about to smart off something else when she turned around, but when he was only a few feet in front of her, he stopped.

His eyes narrowed in on the busted form of her bottom lip, all sarcasm gone and replaced with a confused stare. He didn't even pay attention to how she was looking at him, because he simply could not look away from the angry, red and purple discolored cut on her lip.

He didn't know what to think about it, but it took him off guard, made him rethink about how he had planned on treating her. This, however, only lasted a moment. She would not get under his skin like this. Yes, he wondered how she had gotten the cut, just like he wondered about everything else, but he didn't care. She wouldn't tell him anyways, so there was no point in not continuing his game.

Now, he was pissed.

"What's in the bag?" Then, he finally looked up to her eyes.

She looked even more exhausted in person, but he didn't care about that, and his bully persona slipped on like a warm glove.

She squinted her eyes like she hadn't heard him, and craned her head up further to hear him. "Huh?" She merely whispered.

Her dreamy haze wasn't helping his frustrations, and he took a menacing step forward as he looked down on her. "I said," His body covered her like a shadow. "What's in the bag?"