My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

53

There were two things Josephine was not excited about this morning. Obviously, the suspense of the fight had been gnawing at her nerves. Dante hadn't said a word to her, not even a text message, and Beatriz hadn't suggested any wrath. But she wouldn't see him on the weekends, so she was sure to do so in school.

But that was only one reason. The other one of them was standing next to her here, in swaggering glee.

Houston had called her over with only two sentences being sent from her phone. No doubt Beatriz had given her number to him. Unless it was Isla, but she didn't think Isla would betray her so.

So she waited at his chosen destination: the far west hall near the bay of bright red lockers. It had been all of five minutes before Houston rushed in. He was speeding towards her like a dog with rabies.

Maybe this was the beginning of the torture. Dante had seen her shrivel underneath him the first night they met—why would this be any different?

But he had been... odd.

Houston had leaned against the lockers, merely cutting glares to anyone who caught a whiff of them. Josephine had been shifting, the sudden action was irregular. It went on for ten minutes. He wasn't normally like this. Then again, maybe he was. She could never tell how he would act. Always on one side of playfulness or the other on deranged.

Houston began by saying, "Have you talked to Dante yet?"

Josephine looked around the hallways. There were some students here. Not an even fight against Houston if they tried, but rather who seemed like they had enough lung in them to throw a screaming fit. And call for help.

She said to him, "No."

Houston craned his neck, lips thinning. Josephine took a step back, imaging his sharp teeth.

"When are you planning to?" He asked.

What sort of game was he playing? "When he calls me. Or forces me to go to another one of your investigations."

"Heh. True." Houston laughed.

Josephine bit her lip, waiting. To see how far he drew out this facade of his, she didn't know. Though the suspense was slowly gnawing at her heart.

"Any news on Camillo?" He said, turning an eye over her. The halls were littered with bumbling students with no end to their chatter.

She shook her head. Shallow questions with nothing to lead. "Nothing much. He said he would send over the missing footage, and the twins denied being there."

"Typical." Houston snorted, siddling over to the lockers. He ran an eye over her, now noticing her hesitant. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed. "What's up with you?"

"What does that mean?"

Josephine raised a groomed brow. "For the first time in five minutes that you've come over I haven't heard any death threats.

He scoffed. "I'm not that bad."

She cocked her head. "Insults, hostility, manipulation..."

"Come on." Houston rolled his eyes.

She went on, "... blackmail, torture, overprotective over Isla, taunting—"

"Right." He cleared his throat, covering his face with a large hand. The action was so strange she didn't know if it was sincere or a joke. Of course it was. He had always toyed with her, lied when he could—

He said, "Sorry about that."

Josephine stilled. This was entirely new.

Silence thickened between them. She realized he awaited her response after moments had passed, his eyes staring. She shifted underneath that weight, unsure of what to say. Where had this even come from? Unknowingly, she had taken a step back. Or was this another game for him?