Episode 9
1041 Words
ANNALISE
Lunch time wasn't any different because I saw my tormentor at the cafeteria though I had chosen to sit down at the far end of a table in the corner of the dining hall.
He walked up to me and dropped his tray directly across from me like the entire cafeteria was empty and this was his only option.
I looked up. "There are maybe two hundred seats in this room."
"I know."
He sat down.
"I like this one in particular."
Heat rushed into my cheeks at the look in his eyes which scanned me intensely from head to toe.
I swallowed hard.
"I'm sitting here."
"I can see that."
He picked up his fork.
My shoulder twitched twice.
"Your tic's showing, by the way, Tic-tac,” he pointed out.
I set my jaw.
"Your intelligence clearly is not. And don't call me that."
“I will call you whatever I want, Miss goody two shoes.”
He bit back a grin and looked down at his food tray.
“You're a lunatic.”
He shrugged.
I ate my lunch in silence while I pretended the tips of my ears were not red because of him.
His insults kept coming at every other time during the day, and I tried my best to return them with something much sharper.
The audience laughed at whichever one of us landed the better line in the war, and that was that.
Everything exactly as it always was.
Except it wasn't.
Because underneath every insult we exchanged was the secret weight of the tutoring session from last night just hanging quietly between the both of us.
Which was it?
The dangerous proximity during the tutoring session so far?
His hands on my skin, teasing me with everything he did?
The kiss that had been explosive enough to get me running?
Or the way I had run the moment after without a single word?
Or the way I had pressed my back against my bedroom door in the dark and stood there trying to remember exactly how to keep my breathing at a normal pace?
Or the way I had stayed up for the better part of the night because I was too hot and bothered to go to sleep after all of that stuff?
Something was brewing.
He knew it.
I knew it.
And we both kept on smiling like we didn't feel everything.
By the time the final bell rang, I was tired, completely drained by school activities—and Knox.
I walked out and straight to the bike rack, unlocked my bicycle, and prepared for the ride home.
He walked past with his bag over one shoulder and slowed when he saw me unlocking my bicycle.
"Still riding that thing?" he asked with mild disgust. I snorted.
"Still walking around like you own the school?" I retorted without even looking up from my bike.
"I kind of do."
"Okay."
I pulled the lock free.
"Let me know how that feels when time runs out and the personality you orderd still hasn't arrived."
He stopped walking.
I swung my leg over the bike and pushed off.
"See you at home, Tic-tac," he half whispered after me with a grin so no one would hear him.
The words landed differently than any of the others we exchanged today because he was right.
All of this sparring, all these little performances for whatever stupid audience happened to be passing through, and at the end of it we were going to the same place.
I pedaled harder and didn't even glance back at him.
I made it two blocks before a sleek black car pulled up beside me and one of the windows came down.
Knox looked at me from the backseat with that lazy, unbothered expression that he wore like a second skin. "Get in Tic-tac."
A dry scoff left my lips.
"I have a bike."
"I can see that."
"Then you can also see that I don't need the ride you are offering."
He tilted his head.
"I want today's session to start early, Tic-tac. I am not sitting around waiting for you to pedal that ancient thing home."
"Then sit around," I said. "I will get there when I get there."
He was quiet for a second. Then he said, "Blacklist, Annalise."
I hated him.
I stopped the bike.
“Fine, I'll take your offer.”
He smiled.
“I won.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You can be very convincing.”
“And you have a smart mouth,” he added with a wide grin.
“You do too,” I pointed out with a sickly sweet voice. “But it is a pity everything that comes out of it is either appalling or insufferable.”
He didn't say anything.
“Where do I put my bike?”
“You can leave it there. It's not like anyone would steal it,” I heard him mutter under his breath.
I eyed him.
“Can't you be nice for once?” I asked him with raised brows.
I held his gaze for exactly two seconds.
He let out a groan and gave me a forced smile.
“Please my lady, you can put it in the boot,” he said with a mawkish voice, gesturing to the boot with an exaggerated politeness.
I shook my head in pity.
“You’re sick in the head, Knox. And there’s no hope for you.”
The driver stepped out without being asked and lifted the bike into the boot with practiced ease.
I watched it disappear into the back of the car.
And then, he came around to hold the rear door open, and I climbed in and sat as far against my side as the luxurious seat would allow.
Knox didn't say anything.
I didn't either.
The drive home was ten minutes of silence that was so thick I could almost feel it suffocating me.
I stared out the window and kept my hands folded in my lap.
Meanwhile, I reminded myself that I was a scholarship student with a clean record and a sensible head on my shoulders, and I intended to keep all three of those things.
With or without Knox.
- Writer
