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Make Up s*x?
*Isla* “No?” I repeat Maddox’s response to asking him to leave my room, unable to believe that he’s just replied to me in that fashion. “What do you mean no?” I ask him. He’s just driven four hours to speak to me about the queen contest I’ve found about from my cousin, but when I’ve reached a point of being so unbelievably frustrated I can’t handle it anymore, I need a break from him. I need him to just go. “I mean, no, I’m not leaving. Not right now. Not when you’re still so angry at me,” he says with a simple shrug. “Maddox, clearly, there’s nothing that you can say that is going to make me understand what you are thinking and why you are doing this. Why not just let me get some sleep, and we can talk about this more in the morning? Maybe I will be able to comprehend it better then.
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