Chapter 3 A psycho 😑

“What the crap are you doing here?” I demand, my voice sharp and shrill. Quickly, I remember that Mrs. Penn is just inside, and I shut the door behind me. Shifting my gaze back to the incredibly handsome man, I take in his beautiful eyes as they gaze at me, and me only.

“Walking with you to school,” he grins, his expression absolutely breathtaking. His eyes are full of eagerness, reminding me of an energetic puppy when playing with its master. Joy races through his features, undaunted by my lack of a smile. In fact, I can’t even disguise a scowl.

I begin walking down the sidewalk, him eagerly trotting by my side. After a few more unbearable moments of complying with Xavier’s will, I turn to face him, my features indignant. “Go away,” my voice bites at him, trying to chip away at his insufferable happiness. His grin, surprisingly, grows wider.

“Hey Mona… do you think I’m hot?”

I’m ashamed at the way an egotistical idi0t can disarm me so effectively. For a few seconds, I resemble a goldfish, moving my lips without any sound coming out of them. My cheeks are beet red as I finally stammer out an unconvincing no.

He triumphantly grabs me, whirling me into a bear hug. “I knew it! Mona loves me!”

“NO!” I yell, trying to yank away from his death grip. Unsuccessful, I beat my hands against his muscled chest, trying to ignore the feel of his masculine arms around my waist. “I DON’T LOVE YOU! YOU’RE A STALKER! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME AND WHERE I LIVE?! WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME TO SCHOOL?!” I fire at him furiously, trying to keep my tomato-red cheeks under control.

“Well, first off, I’m not following you,” he points out, “I’m walking with you.” I shoot him a glare, hoping he will get the message, but he conveniently ignores it. “The reason why I know where you live and your name,” he continues, “is because I happened to see you run home-”

“So you did follow me,” I state dubiously.

“Well, then I did… but you said I was following you now…” he protests feebly, trailing off when he realizes that there is no point. I hide a teasing grin from bubbling to the surface. I don’t want to encourage this man, no matter how attractive he might be. If I release one smile, one kind word, he will never leave me alone.

Coldly brushing past him, I walk faster, taking longer strides with my short legs. My medium length ruby red hair flows past my shoulders, pushed behind me by the roaring wind.

“Wow, you walk fast,” he comments sweetly. His startling green eyes crinkle with enjoyment as he said, “I like walking fast too.” He evenly matches my pace, completely defeating the purpose for speeding up in the first place.

This naive man really is insufferable.

But I have to admit once more, as I stare into his perfect face, that he is beautiful. His azure hair waves in the breeze, the sun catching random strands and making it sparkle. His plump, desirable lips give in to a flawless palette, a face that God must have specially crafted. A set of two intoxicating, amazingly green eyes rest below thin eyebrows and a wall of long, enviable eyelashes.

I can’t understand why he makes my heart beat so fast.

“Mona, I love you,” he spurts, perking up after a long stretch of silence. Chills race up and down my arm. Is there no way out of this nightmare?

There is a whoosh, and a familiar pair of bronzed arms sweeps me up into a tender embrace. “You sure are clumsy,” musical, manly chuckles escape Xavier as he stands me back up. I look up into his green eyes, so incredibly beautiful, feeling myself slipping.

No, I scold myself inwardly; don’t let even a slip of vulnerability show. If you do, you will never be alone.

My face hardens as I speak, disconcertment still in my tone. “You don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” I whisper, knowing that he would hear me.

He just looks at me, confusion etching his face. “Of course I mean it, Mona,” he says matter-of-factly, “you are my mate. Of course I love you.”

“Can you shut up?!” I roar, my voice searing, “I hate you!” Once the words escape my mouth, I quickly look away so he will not see the blush. The real emotions boiling beneath the facade.

Time seems to be suspended between us, his hand still latching upon my arm, his face reeling in shock. However, this moment quickly ceases, and Xavier does what is considered impossible to do in this type of situation.

He smiles, his eagerness unrelenting. “This is something new. I have never heard of a mate not being in love with their destined one,” he says softly.

“You know, Mona, hate is the first step to love.” His eyes grow fierce, determined. He steps closer to me, capturing me with his beautiful eyes.

“I will make you fall in love with me.” He takes my hand, and I am unable to resist him. I am frozen by his stare, his words. After holding my hand for a few seconds, he presses his lips to it and then releases me.

My hand burns from where his lips had brushed it.

He then smiles, as if he is actually looking forward to the time when I will finally accept him. Which, by the way, is never coming.

I glance his way, though refusing to meet his gaze. I am truly curious as to why he felt so determined to make me love him. It can’t possibly be because he is attracted to me, for I am too ugly for that. It can’t be because of my personality, for it is the worst I’ve observed so far in my lifetime.

I listen keenly as he begins to speak again. “You seem to believe that I’m a werewolf, not asking any questions about it after seeing me morph,” he says softly, “it is usually hard to accept.” “Who says I believe it?” I scoff, turning away once more so he can’t see my fiery cheeks. I mean, it is hard for me to not believe it, I saw him morph into one of those sharp-toothed, furry beasts. But I don’t want to accept it. I don’t want to acknowledge that my life is suddenly spiraling out of control.

“Yes you do,” he smiles, making my heart jump out of my chest, “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Shut up,” I demand, tilting my nose up slightly, though inwardly shaking with embarrassment. I have never talked to a boy, let alone a beautiful one, for this long. And on the very first long conversation I have with a guy, he professes to be in love with me?

This is seriously messed up.

Xavier peers at me, at my face hidden behind my thick bangs. “Did you have glasses in the forest where I rescued you?” he asked.

I nod in reply, “yes, but don’t worry about trying to find it. I have this one,” I finger my thick lenses. He seems unsatisfied, his facial expression of sadness.

“Like this,” he comments sadly, “I can’t see your cute eyes that well. Is there any way you could go without them?”

I shake my head, my cheeks flushing once more. He stops completely, bending down so he can be at my level. Quietly, halting me with a gentle touch, he observes me, examining my face. He frowns, his sparkling eyes creasing a little in disappointment. “Mona,” he says, “you look very different from when I first met you.”

Yeah, I think inwardly, probably you didn’t realize how ugly I am until now. “Disappointed?” I ask scornfully.

“No,” he smiles, “you are just as beautiful as you were yesterday.”

I choke on my own breath, shock coursing through me. No one, let alone a shockingly handsome man, has ever called me beautiful, or even pretty.

“It’s just,” he complains, “that your bangs cover half of your face, and your glasses cover your eyes. It’s almost as if you’re hiding from me,” His facial expressions bend in a frown.

I glare at him, my face now almost permanently red. This conversation really is introducing a lot of firsts for me, and a ton of embarrassment. “Oh really?” I ask, trying to make my voice indifferent, uninterested.

“Yeah,” he says, deep in thought. We both are silent, walking together calmly, neither of us knowing exactly what to say next.

“Hey Xavier?” I finally speak, surprising Xavier a little. He glances at me, his face of bafflement at the fact that I am starting the conversation this time around.

“Yes?” he replies, “ask me anything.” His face perks up a little.

There are so many questions I wish to ask him. For one, why is he insisting on calling me beautiful? What sort of lunatic man would think I am beautiful in the first place? Why the crap do werewolves actually exist?

But instead, this question just has to escape my lips. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?” I ask bitingly, mentally slapping myself in the face for wasting an opportunity to ask a better question.