and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
Heavens, he was insufferable.
Hearing his thoughts, endlessly chipper and joyous, and knowing that he seemed to see straight through her sullen exterior does nothing but infuriate her, deepening the scowl that tugs are her pretty lips. “I will have you know that I am not happy to see you,” she quips coldly, wrinkling her nose. “I wish you would stop thinking such lies to yourself. It’s annoying to no end to have to listen to them.”
At his next thought, her jaw opens, dual-colored eyes widening in disbelief. “A thing for you?” Her voice is incredulous as she watches him. “Please tell me that you’re joking.” She searches his face, trying to find some sort of clue, some hidden piece of dishonesty, but she can’t. So she gathers together the rags of her dignity and sniffs. “As if I would ever entertain such thoughts.” A graceful shrug.
“After all, we both know that you’re the one who’s always had a thing for me.”
As if she would have a crush on the boyish red stallion.
A crush.
He gets closer and she almost blushes and then dances backward, uncomfortable and uncertain and loathing every second of it. Her face turns stony. Of course he would make her feel like a filly all over again. She’s back home for barely a minute and he’s treating her like she’s a child, laughing and teasing as if they were close friends. As if he had the right to even talk to her, let alone joke with, at, at her.
But then there is ice growing, and she feels the dreadful edges of humor beginning to curl. She does everything she can to keep a straight face, pressing her lips together, but he grows more and more ridiculous by the second and then he wiggles his eyebrows and she breaks. Her laugh is loud and bright, the sound of a girl who never let herself laugh, and her eyes pop in surprise as she quickly contains it.
“Damn it, Fox. Stop making me laugh.”
lynx