"Green, what's wrong?" His question kept ringing in my head. Why does he care? Or why this care after so long? He hated me this morning and now he looked so concerned. But apart from what my mind thought, my heart felt his concern genuine, like he really cared for me but my mind— it felt it as a trap, a trap to break me. I shook my head, jerking my hand out of his hold as I tried to walk away from the kitchen, from him where I can finally break down and cry out all my miseries. But he was adamant, like the predator he kept on following me as he stood in front of me.
With Matthew one couldn't expect what he would do next. He could either shoot you or caress you? He would be so cold and impassive at one moment and so concerned at the very next moment. I was expecting him to tease me, torme
