Page 32 of Queen of The Reapers
“Forget it, Princess.” He says, stepping away from me. “There are some things you’ll never be ready to hear.”
I hop off of the treadmill and follow his retreat. “No, you felt the need to say it.” I say, getting into his face. “Elaborate.”
Cyrus deliberates for a moment before answering me. “You’re a runner.” He says, throwing his hands up. “Let’s be honest, it’s what you do best, and it’s what you’re doing right now. You may be here, but in that fucking head of yours, you are miles away.”
I shake my head in denial. “That’s not true.”
Cyrus presses closer. “Then why is it that this is the first time you’ve so much as looked me in the eye since the fire?” He asks, searching my eyes.
“Because I have nothing to say.” I mumble, avoiding his penetrating gaze.
“Why is that?” He asks, cocking his head.
Instead of dignifying him with a response, I shut my mouth, slip in my earbuds again, and storm back to my treadmill. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about anything.
Just as I pick up my pace again, Cyrus rips the emergency stop cord right in front of my face and levels an angry glare at me. I say nothing as I grab the cord and grip it in my hands.This little game of his is fucking ridiculous and I want no part in it.
“The Silence”by The Veronicas plays in my head and I close my eyes and turn the volume up higher. I’m done playing into his antics. I reattach the emergency stop and pick up my pace again.
After a few seconds, I break into a sprint, and without warning, the machine sputters to stop. I let out an angry sigh and reach for the cord with my eyes still firmly shut. I expect to find it unattached again, but when I feel for it, I find the cord just as I left it.
I flick my eyes open and come face-to-face with Cyrus holding what appears to be the power cord. He levels a vicious glare at me as he tosses the cord to the ground before taking out one of my earbuds. “We’re talking whether you want to or not.”
“Actually,” I say, hopping off of the treadmill and snatching my earbud back, “we’re not. I was finished, anyway.”
I don't want to cut my run short, but anything is better than being forced to face him and all the questions behind his eyes.
I storm towards the exit and can feel Cyrus following me right on my heels. “Fuck, Stevie!” He yells, chasing after me. “Fight me. Scream at me. Show me something, Princess. I’d rather feel your hate than feel nothing at all.”
I twist around to face him. “I don’t hate you.” I sneer, cutting my eyes at him. “Not everything is about you, Cyrus.”
“Bullshit.” He challenges, maneuvering around me to block the exit. “I see it all over your face. You’d love nothing more than to punch me in my face right now. Admit it.”
“Fine, I hate you.” I deadpan. “Now move the fuck out of the way.”
He shakes his head with a smile. “Finally, a step in the right direction, but you’re still angry. I see it. Take a shot.” He says, patting the side of his face for emphasis. “One solid punch to get all the hate out of your system.”
I look up at him incredulously. “I’m not going to punch you.”
“Why?” He asks, cocking a brow. “Scared you might like it?”
“No. Unlike you, I don’t resort to violence to solve all my problems.”
“I can think of a few instances where that’s exactly what you’ve done. Hit me, P. You know you want to.”
I shake my head in denial. “No.”
“Do it.” He says, getting closer to my face. “Come on. Show me what you got.”
Maybe it's his incessant pestering. Maybe it's the fact that he interrupted the one activity I used to escape from my thoughts. Maybe it's just his own bad fucking timing. Any other day, I would’ve never taken him up on the offer. But as I stare at the stupid smirk on his face and think about all the bullshit that I've been through since I met him and his brothers, I stop overthinking for once in my life and I act.
Forming a fist with my right hand, I wind back slightly and throw everything I have in a solid punch to his jaw. My body snaps forward and as my fist zeroes in on his jaw, Cyrus realizes what’s happening and ducks out of the way inches before my fist collides with his face.
“Holy shit!” He exclaims, raising his brows. “You were actually going to hit me.” His face contorts in mock shock as he presses his hand to his heart. “I’m hurt, Princess. Arguing is one thing, but resorting to violence? This is a cry for help.”
“You are such an asshole.” I clip, shoving him back.
Instead of recovering, like we both know he easily could’ve, he wraps his hands around my waist at the last minute and lets the force of my shove pull the both of us down to the mat.
