15.
She sat across the room from me.
A creak. The drapes fluttered. She sat and sipped her tea.
"Why?"
She smiled. That smile, she had that dumb 'I know what you're talking about but I'll just make myself an airhead, shall I?' smile on her face again. She sat and smiled and sipped her tea.
"Why?!"
"Why what?"
I was standing, an abrupt motion that she seemed to find amusing. She knew what I was going to do. Before I reached her desk, she stopped sipping from her cup and held out the delicate piece of ceramic. It enraged me, her simple motion of yielding and admitting defeat when she was so far from it. I ignored the cup and instead closed my fingers around her necktie, wrenching the silky red ribbon from beneath the folded lapels of her pristine white Oxford.
"You know what. Why are you doing this? Why are you putting up this… this act?"
Her eyes rested on the scarf in my clenched hand, watching as the carefully pressed silk crumpled in my grip. With a measured look, she held her tea cup out beside her, over the polished tiles of the Student Council Headquarters floor.
"Act?" she murmured, smiling.
A swift tilt of her hand sent the opening of her tea cup downward. Green tea spilled onto the faded beige tiles.
"Whoever said I was acting?"
