Chapter | 5
Tate Moore was sitting on the chair to my vanity, wearing a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses with a fresh bandage smoothed over the bridge of his nose.
I sat on my bed, watching him run a finger over my makeup brushes, sending powder into the air.
He seemed so delicate sitting there. Like he could never hurt anybody.
But I had to remind myself of the way he'd beaten the guy at school. The rumors about him.
"Am I cruel?" He asked suddenly, like he could read my expression. I couldn't tell if he was more intelligent than he let on.
"Sometimes." I answered, placing my hands at the top of my knees.
He pulled the glasses from his face, throwing his arm over the back of the chair as he turned to face me. The delicate frame dangled from his finger tips.
"I couldn't be cruel to you." He said. "You're too good."
I tilted my head, admiring the fullness of his lips and the hollows of his cheeks. "What if you just think I am?"
"No." He shook his head. "I know you're good."
"Are you good?"
"I'm not good for anyone." He answered, brushing his damp hair from his face. His blue eyes sought mine, slightly duller than most. I could tell he wasn't all there.
"Why not?" I countered, watching him turn back to the vanity to place the glasses on the surface.
"I'm as tainted as your lipstick, Poppy."
YOU ARE READING
Tate
Teen Fiction"Tate Moore is fucking psychotic." He stared at me blankly, like he hadn't just insulted himself. He snapped his gum, as my mouth hung open. Then something completely unexpected happened. He plucked the gum from his mouth and stuck it on my nos...
