continued. { @staticsense. }
WHAT WAS THERE TO SAY, Tate wondered,when she’d just caught him in the act again? He was all out of shitty excuses. Was, in fact, out of the good ones, too. Not that she’dCARE how good the excuse was anyway.
Madison was the kind of girl who’d probably MACE him in the face and call the cops ( or do some magic shit on him ) if they hadn’t alreadyhooked up, but it was still totally not cool for him to be going through her stuff and Tate knew that. So he slid the dresser door shut with both hands, pressing it TIGHT before he turned to look at her. His sweater hung crookedly on one shoulder as he walked over to the bed. He could get out of this. He was SURE.
A press of his feet into the floor lifted him into a JUMP, and he landed with the creaking sound of the mattress under him. He propped his head on his hand and looked at her. Why he kept letting his guard down,he wasn’t sure. Maybe that was WITCHCRAFT too. ❝ Do you believe in GHOSTS? ❞ A distraction was all he needed.
the only reason she hadn't long-since forced him out ( or, at least,
TRIED to force him out ) was because she liked him. because even
when he was going through her stuff, there was some part of her that
adored him. some part of her so incredibly W I L L I N G to bend and
believe his every word. every one of his excuses no matter how absolutely
shitty they were ( and some of them were definitely shitty. ) and even
n o w she couldn't help but think about just how absolutely adorable he
looked in his crooked sweater - the way he looked at her.
but the lack of a real excuse would be noted carefully, though the
question remained i n t r i g u i n g. made her wonder just where he
was trying to go with it. assessed him carefully. KNEW he couldn't
be claiming that a ghost had told him to go through her things, right?
that would be STUPID.
.“ yeah. ” would find herself answering a n y w a y s as she
crossed her arms, weight s h i f t e d from one foot to the
other. “ what does THAT have to do with you going through
my shit? ” more confused than angry at the moment -
wanted to know what was going on. almost wanted to know
what he was looking for. what he NEEDED. why he needed
it so badly. “ i mean, this isn't the first time. are you, like,
STALKING ME or something? because that's really creepy,
tate. ”
